I Thought Angels Were Meant to Save You
by forever.young '94
Summary: Elle moved from her home down under to the town of Coldwater, where she meets the mysterious and alluring Patch. The better she tries to understand him, the harder it is to escape him. You know the drill with Patch- lots of danger and innuendos, haha ;
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The room was crowded with elegantly dressed, masked individuals. The room was romantically lit, soft music intertwined perfectly with the mellow, warm atmosphere of the summer evening. I sat at the garishly decorated table cluttered with candles, wine glasses and place setting cards. Plucking up the small coral card in my place and lifting it to the candle, I was able to distinguish the words written. _**Patch Cipriano.**_

_Oh well, _I thought, dropping it to the table and adjusting my silver mask, _if this 'Patch' wanted his seat so bad he should've sat in it._

It was the annual Masked Ball for the town of Coldwater and my mother forced us all to attend, going on about how it's 'about time we made an appearance in this new town,' and to not be "snobs". My mother was off somewhere socialising, typically. My father's plain black mask had been discarded after the first five minutes before he headed to the bar. Which left me to my own devices, when, having none, left me bored and uncomfortable. At least with this mask not everyone was staring at me like I was the cure for cancer.

My purple silken dress was soft against my thighs; my skin was golden in this dim light. _Not for long, though,_ I thought with dismay. Coldwater was not known for being particularly sunny. I stood up, smoothing my dress down and brushing my dark hair back. I wobbled slightly in the ridiculously high black shoes I was forced into; almost twisting my ankle when I swerved around to retrieve my clutch bag I had almost forgotten.

I straightened up and turned around, almost breaking my nose against someone's chest. "Oof, _excuse _me." I muttered, annoyed. I tried to edge around him, but he stepped in the same direction as I did, causing that whole awkward side step thing. I glared up at him, and then froze cold. Through his red devils mask shone two black, fathomless eyes. Those eyes sliced into me like a chilled knife, I suddenly felt transparent, cold darts running down my spine. His olive skin was shown to its full potential in a sharp white shirt, tucked into black pants. His sleeves were rolled casually up his forearms, showing smooth skin gliding over hard muscle. My neck hurt from having to look up at him, his eyes rested a full head higher up than mine. Tousled black hair swept across his forehead, piercing his cheekbones and curling at his collar. I opened my mouth to say something, and then closed it. He grinned a pirate's smile.

"I do believe that's my seat," he murmured, nodding to his place card. I looked back at it, and then to him.

"You didn't seem to want it before," I said, annoyed at how breathless I sounded. He gave a ghost of a smile.

"But I do now," he tilted his head; his eyes sweeping up and down my dress, "nice dress, by the way."

I shivered, then darted around him. "Have your seat. I was just leaving anyway." I turned hastily, planning to get away from this guy as quickly as possible, when I slipped. I _told_ Mum the shoes were stupid. The knife-like heel went one way while my foot went the other, causing the heel to snap right off. Just before I hit the marble floor strong hands caught me, grasping my elbows and hauling me upright. I was about to thank Patch when I put my weight down on my right foot. I gasped at the twinge of pain that stabbed at my ankle. "Ouch, oh _crap_, my ankle," I groaned, stumbling into his hard chest.

"Sit down," Patch ordered, pulling out his chair.

"No," I gritted my teeth, crouching down to undo the shoe straps, "I just want to get out." I waved my arms, almost over balancing until he gripped my wrists and pulled me up, pushing me down onto the chair. He dragged out another abandoned chair and sat, snatching up my leg. I gasped at his cool hands on my calf and struggled to keep my dress at a decent length. "What are you doing?!" I demanded, shocked. _Who the hell do you think you are?_

"My name's Patch," he raised his eyes to me, in them was a slightly challenging light. I didn't miss that he hadn't answered my question. The one actually spoken, I mean. "Who the hell do you think _you_ are?"

My jaw dropped, hanging there for a moment before I blinked and shut my mouth. He winked. "I-I'm Elle," I don't know how I managed to remember my name as I watched his long fingers sliding my hazardous shoe off my swelling ankle, very gently rotating my foot so he could have a closer look.

"I didn't know you were a doctor as well as a mind reader, Mr. Patch," I said, trying to distract myself as the pain made another appearance. His mouth curved slightly.

Patch held up my shoe, eyeing it as if it were a bomb. "Killer shoes, Elle." Amusement flickered in his eyes as the heel dangled, literally, by a thread.

"Emphasis on 'killer'," I rolled my eyes, biting my lip. His eyes stared at my mouth for a long moment, long enough to bring out an unhappy flush on my cheeks. "Stop staring, thanks," I snapped.

"You're blushing,"

"Am not," I pouted childishly. I heaved my leg off his lap and snatched my shoe from him. Then I limped painfully away from his alluring persona.

"Where are you going?" Patch asked casually, keeping pace with me easily as I worked my way through the maze of masks.

"Some place where you're not," I muttered, "and to get some ice," I added more audibly.

"Kitchen's that way," he said, pointing behind us.

"No!" I moaned, feeling the red flush of anger creep up my neck.

"I'll get some, meet you back at the table," and with that he disappeared swiftly into the crowd. I couldn't even see the table from where I stood. _Screw that_, I thought and continue the way I had intended to go. Outside.

The pleasant summer breeze caressed my heated skin when I pushed the heavy oak doors open. I hobbled slowly to the low wall enclosing a small garden. Perching myself on the cool stone, I pushed my mask up over my head.

Patch was hot. _Really _hot. But there was something about him that...wasn't right. He seemed dangerous, not the usual idiotic bad- boy- stereotype kind of danger, but something inhumane. Those eyes were like black ice, and when he stared into mine it felt like the ice was locking itself around my heart. The doors opened, and I just had time to lower my mask again when Patch rounded the corner.

He flashed his teeth in a feral smile as he appraised me awkwardly draped over the wall. "I needed some air," I said in a way of explanation.

"Sure," he said, sauntering over, "your ice, madam," he held out a cold pack to me.

"Thank you," I took it, looking down. The cold caused me to suck in a breath when I placed it against my ankle.

"Midnight's coming," he said, sitting next to me.

"That's nice," I said, distracted.

"Midnight is the big...revealing," Patch said.

"Oh, right. Everyone takes their masks off."

"And if some are lucky, it's more than just your mask," He slid his eyes slyly to me.

"Uhh, ha-ha," I stammered, cheeks glowing.

"You blush a lot, Elle. Is it just because you're with me?" Patch nudged me, almost sending me flying off the wall.

"I do not!" I cursed myself inwardly, "Are you always this..."

"Charming? Charismatic? Devilishly good looking?"

"Cocky?"

"I don't need to be," he said quietly, lifting a hand to my neck. I sat frozen, before shaking myself and sweeping his hand aside, shivering.

"So you're from Australia?" Patch asked, stealing my shoe, holding it away from my reaching hands.

"Stalker," I grinned ruefully.

"It's your accent... "

"Right, well yeah. I recently moved here from Australia because my Dad's job offered him a promotion. And for some reason we were stationed here." I lifted the cold pack to inspect the damage. "I think it's going down," I murmured, relieved.

"What does your father do?" Patch asked.

"Would it seem stupid if I said I wasn't really sure?"

Patch slid his eyes to me, the corner of his mouth pulling up. "Maybe you should be suspicious then," he smirked.

I raised one eyebrow at him, then remembered he couldn't see my eyebrows, "Mafia, maybe."

"Fugitive."

"Alien?"

We were interrupted in the midst of our musing by the clock tower chiming twelve ringing tolls.

"Midnight," Patch turned to me, "may I do the honours, or do you wish to unveil yourself?"

"You first," I said, feeling slightly self conscious next to his dark beauty.

"As you wish," he brought his hands up to his red mask and slowly pulled it up away from his face, slipping it over his head. I gasped quietly at the uninterrupted beauty of his face, the suggestive wink he gave me. "Your turn."

Slowly he lifted his large hands to my face; one hand cupped the back of my neck as the other unfastened the tie that held my mask in place. It fell away in a shimmering mass of silver and black ribbon. I looked down, suddenly afraid to look at him but he put a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Elle," he breathed, moving closer to me, placing a hand on either side of me, trapping me. Patch leaned in closer, so close that I could smell his breath; mint. His lips were inches from mine, and I, unthinkingly, leant closer. Just before our lips met he chuckled softly.

"Careful, killer," he murmured, "we don't want you to get hurt," and with that Patch pushed off the wall, his mouth curved into a slight smile, and he walked away. Away from the lights, from the people and into the darkness where it rapidly consumed him. Soon I was alone.

My heart was hammering in a way as if it had just escaped a terrible danger. Patch wasn't dangerous...but what did I know.

* * *

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**Review!!**

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The rasping of curtains and the stabbing morning light pulled me out of my sinister dreams of masked figures following me.

"Ellieeee!" My mother sang happily, much too bright on a Sunday morning at, I glanced bleary eyed at my alarm clock: nine o'clock?!

"Mum," I groaned, burrowing under the blankets, "it's nine...in the morning! Who wakes up at nine in the morning on a Sunday?"

I curled into a ball as the covers were ripped off me, leaving me shivering in my tank top and baggy pjs.

"Come on, up," my unwise mother commanded, "we need to buy you some clothes for school." And with that she bustled out of my room, her head held high with purpose. Obviously she had had her second cup of coffee this morning.

Shopping. I repressed a shudder at the prospect. I wasn't really a shop-til-you-drop kind of girl. More of the sulking-in-the-corner-as-mother-picks-out-hideous-attire sort of person. I was still getting my head around the fact that students didn't have to wear uniforms here. At home the teachers cared more about the uniform policy than actual education.

I finally managed to drag myself upright and roll out of bed. I staggered slightly, wincing as I remembered my ankle. It didn't hurt much now, just twinges every now and then to remind me why high heels are evil.

As I was wrestling with the dodgy door on my wardrobe, I thought about last night, at the Masked Ball. I didn't see Patch again that night, and I didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Patch kept creeping into my thoughts all morning. While I was brushing my hair, pulling on my black hoodie and driving through the sleeping town. I caught the dreamy expression on my face in the car's side mirror and scolded myself for being so pathetic.

* * *

I could hear my mother chatting happily to the sales assistant as I hid behind a clothes rack, arms aching from the multiple plastic bags cutting into my skin. I sighed miserably and looked out the display window, _to freedom,_ I thought shaking my head. Then I spied something that made my mood brighten immediately. "Mum?" I stepped out from behind the rack.

My mother frowned at me, tearing away from her enthralling conversation of cuts of jeans. "Elle! Where were you?"

"Mum, can I go to that bookstore across?" I asked, gesturing vaguely in the right direction.

My mum rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged in a silent; _what can I tell you? _"Yeah, go on," she sighed. I grinned in victory and skipped out of the stifling clothes store with the scarily made up sales assistants cooing over orange feather dresses and disturbing mannequins that look like real people.

Mooching along the shelves and shelves of books, I finally felt at home. The shop was small, yet cosy with honey wood and dusty carpets. Inhaling deeply, I could catch the scent of paper and stale coffee.

"Killer?"

I was so immersed in reading the blurb of a thick paperback that the wisp of breath at the back of my neck caused me to jump violently. The book tumbled to the floor with a muted thud.

"_Patch?! _Jeez you scared me," I gasped, stepping back into the bookshelf to put some space between us. I had whirled around to find myself inches from Patch's chest, the black t-shirt reeking of smoke and mint. He ducked down to retrieve the book from the carpet, flipping it over to smirk at the front cover.

"Nice," he half smiled, holding out the book to me. I tugged at it but he held on to it, waiting until I looked up. "Didn't think you were much of a horror freak."

I frowned in confusion, "Horror? This is Romeo and Juliet...?"

His eyes gleamed, "Exactly my point."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, ha ha," I said sarcastically, edging out the corner I was wedged in. "What are you doing in here anyway? You don't seem like the type who can read,"

He stopped and stared at me, amusement flickering deep in his obsidian eyes. "I can read, Elle."

""Uh huh," I was sceptical.

"Anyway," he continued, leaning in, "what else would I be doing in here? I'm following you."

A chill tingled down my spine, before I brushed it away with a nervous laugh. "Of course you are. You couldn't get enough from last night, could you?"

"Mm, I miss that dress though," he said mournfully, appraising my jeans and hoodie assemble.

"Hey!" I punched his shoulder, then had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop swearing with pain, "What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"Nothing," he grinned slowly, raking his eyes up and down, "but I prefer a little skin, your legs did look good."

His scrutinizing was making my face heat up. _Not again!_ "You sleaze," I said, irritated. I turned away, trying to fight the smile lurking close to the surface.

I could feel him right behind me, a cold presence breathing down my neck.

"Killer?" Patch nudged, sounding like he was suppressing laughter.

"_What?_" I moaned, still not turning around.

"What is this?" he chortled, waiting for me to turn. I spun around to face him, and then dropped my jaw in astonishment.

Patch was grinning that pirate smile again, holding up a lacy black bra. Heat crept up my face all the way to my hairline.

"Oh!" I gasped, snatching it out of his hands, "What the hell?!"

"It fell out of your bag," Patch widened his eyes, feigning innocence.

"Sure it did," I snapped, stuffing it back into the Victoria Secret's bag.

"It's very nice," Patch complimented, bracing an arm on the shelf in front of me to block my path.

"Rape in a bookstore?" I asked in disbelief, staring at his arm, humiliation causing me to lash out. "That's low, even for _you_."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, causing me to shrink back into myself. Then he raised an eyebrow and flashed his teeth. "It's not rape if you enjoy it."

For the second time in the matter to two minutes my jaw dropped. "That's...you- disgusting," I spluttered, brow creasing in anger.

His shoulders shook slightly with his quiet laughter. "See you in school, Killer," he removed his arm from the shelf and began to lope away.

_Like hell you will,_ I thought savagely. Patch's laughter carried over to me, making me wonder what he thought was so funny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I had only been inside Coldwater High for about ten minutes, and already my head was throbbing.

This morning the blaring of my alarm clock turned to full blast caused me to smack my head into the headboard and fall out of bed. Lying there, tangled in the sheets with my feet still twisted together on top of the bed, one thought ran through my mind; _this is not a good start_.

I peeked outside the curtains to try and gauge what I should wear for school. A shock ran through me when I saw a lone figure standing half concealed in the shadows of a tree. I withdrew slightly from view, my heart beginning to pound.

"Elle," my mother called from downstairs, "you awake?"

I turned away from the window to shout back that yes, I was indeed awake. When I sidled back to the windows edge to peer out, the figure was gone. My brow puckered in bewilderment, and I dragged the curtains apart hastily and shoved the window open, flinching at the rusty scream it made. I leaned out, glaring down both ends of the street, but there was no one in sight. _And who would be up at this unearthly hour?_

I gave a huge yawn as I shouldered my backpack and brought up the hood of my jacket over my hair, trying to save it from the mist. The fog littered the front yard, the low morning sun beginning to chase it away. I glanced over my shoulder, paranoid, as I made my way to my car.

The engine coughed and wheezed as I pushed it to start. _Stupid bomb_. My father helped me rescue the car from the dusty car yard. It had a bad case of rust and was sitting up to its windows in scrap metal. I hadn't seen dad so animated in years as he talked of ways to help the 'little baby' reach its full potential. Of course, _I _had no idea what was so great about it, I was just chuffed I could start driving at only 16 an a half.

With the town being so small, it wasn't so hard to find the school. It stood dark and ominous against the steel sky, deserted at this time. I sighed at the small digital clock on the dash board. I was way too early. I edged my small car into a space in front of the office.

The door slid open silently and I stepped across the multi-coloured carpet, heading for the counter with the slide along glass. I waited behind the window, pretending to look interested in all the academic looking posters lining the walls as I waited for the woman to take notice. She glanced up at me, her eyes beady behind her half moon glasses.

"The office isn't open to students at this time," she told me peevishly, taking off her glasses and letting them hang by their chain. Her mousy, bedraggled hair hung limp by her gaunt cheeks, her twig-like fingers gnarled and tugging at her tan sweater.

"Uh, my name is Elle Presario. I'm just starting here," I told her, watching her eyes take on a knowing look.

"Oh, of course," she muttered, diving behind the desk for a moment. I leaned forward slightly, wondering if this woman was qualified enough for...whatever it is she does. Like maybe scaring new kids away in fear of her leading them to her gingerbread cottage and eating them.

"Ah," she emerged, flustered, "here's your schedule for this semester, and get this signed by all your teachers," she handed me a slip of paper.

"Gee, thanks," I nodded, taking it and stuffing it into my bag.

"Bring that back here after school," she said, pushing her fringe back tiredly.

"Ok, thank you," I squinted to read the name off her badge, "Mrs Bashambridge," the name got tangled on my tongue.

"Hmmph," she was clearly unimpressed, "well, good luck."

I nodded and turned away from the desk, hurrying to the door as quickly as possible.

Closing the door softly, I turned to see students starting to arrive. I chewed my lip, wondering what to do. Glancing down to my schedule, I read off the number of my locker. I sighed and hitched my bag up higher over my shoulder, heading for my car.

So that point brings me here, standing to the side of a stampede of teenagers, the clanging of metal doors being swung shut, and squeals and shouts of friends reuniting after a long summer was rebounding off the walls of my skull.

I retreated back into my hood, turning my back on the throng of adolescents, trying to memorise my timetable. I raked a hand through my hair, letting my hood fall back. Jeez this was confusing, much more complicated than the time tables I was use to.

I rolled my eyes seeing the last class I had was sport. I looked up as the bell rung out, thin and reedy, throughout the corridor. Locker doors slammed shut and the students began to scatter, the hallway becoming quieter. Sighing, I the snagged the books needed for the first hour and shut my locker, ready to face my first day.

* * *

I followed my class mates into the gym, and was almost immediately assaulted with a pair of black shorts and a deep green polo shirt.

"Miss Presario," a burly woman read off a class list. She was short and stocky, her straight, brown hair pulled into a tight pony tail, a silver whistle dangling from a blur cord around her neck. She held the uniform in her clenched hands

I took it with a grimace, and followed the other girls into the changing rooms.

"Elle?" I turned to see a tall girl with cocoa coloured skin smiling at me.

"Yes, uh..." I struggled to remember her name, and failed miserably.

"It's Annie," she reminded, her smile kind.

"Sorry, thanks," I mumbled, grinning at her.

"Just want to warn you that Coach is pretty full on. Don't be surprised if she thinks ten laps is a warm up."

"T-ten laps?" I choked, fumbling with my shoelaces. I felt a little green.

Annie laughed sympathetically, pulling her polo top over her braided hair. I walked out of the locker room with Annie, self consciously tugging at my shorts and ducking behind her tall frame as the guys looked on curiously. I ambled up to the coach, handing her the paper to sign. While she hunted for a pen in her bag, I felt a cold whisper curl down my spine.

I looked over my shoulder, slightly alarmed. What I saw left me mortified. Patch was sauntering out of the boy's locker room, his polo top sitting on his frame very nicely, and whereas most boys wore shorts, he sported black tracksuit pants. _No one should look that good for P.E, _I thought in awe. As if in response to my thoughts, Patch looked up at me through his lashes, the side of his mouth quirking up into a half smile. The light in his eyes was wicked, sly. As he passed me he leant over to murmur in my ear, "Nice shorts, Killer," before continuing to head for the corner vacant of any other students.

I struggled to fight the smile about to surface, taking deep breaths to stop the blush painting itself across my face. So Patch was in my sports class, ready to witness me sweaty and clumsy, kicking a ball just so it can fly back and smack me in the face. Ok, so that happened _once,_ but it still haunts me. I looked over to Patch to see his lips twitching, as if fighting a smile.

Coach stepped out in front of the group, legs apart and fists clenched on her hips. "Ok," she announced, "fitness tests." The boys cheered, and I looked around to see most of the girls looking faintly nauseated. I, myself, was terrified. Coach barked at us to pair up, introducing each of the tests. After handing us a blue chart to record our marks, she shooed us off.

The first test Annie and I faced was the chin up bar. All we had to do was to hang by the bar and see how long we could hold ourselves up for. I looked up at the bar, craning my neck to take it in. The hanging part- sure, makes sense. But actually getting _up_ there?

"Um, how exactly do we get up there?" I hissed to Annie, suddenly feeling small. Annie grinned, the height not a problem for her.

"We used to have a crate, but it disappeared. Don't worry," she waved to someone behind my shoulder, her eyes strangely blank. "We just have to make do with this solution."

A shadow suddenly loomed over me. "Got another short ass, do we?" A low, silky voice, tainted with amusement made me start. I whirled around and blinked. Patch winked at me.

"Oh, _hell _no," I glared, backing away from Patch. He stepped towards me, matching every one of my steps with his.

"Elle," his hands darted forward, snatching my wrists. I tried to yank them free but his grip was too strong. "You don't want to fail now, do you?" He was enjoying himself way too much.

I narrowed my eyes at him, surrendering. "This is ridiculous," I mutter angrily. I saw the flash of satisfaction in his eyes as he reached for me. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he bent at the knees, hoisting me up. I found the ground disappearing beneath my feet shocking. I clutched onto his shoulders, looking around me nervously. "I'm not really good with heights, you know," I told him, earning another ghost smile.

"Come on, now," Patch teased, pulling me tighter against him , "I thought you wanted to get this test done _today. _You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"Shut up!" I said, outraged, "I am not." I reached up to the bar, subtly kicking him aside as I did. Annie hit start on the stopwatch and sat herself down on the ground. Patch continued to watch me, his eyes unreadable.

"What?" I puffed, struggling to hold on, "You can go now, you know?"

"I _could _go now, but I won't," he braced one shoulder against the pole, crossing his arms. I tried to ignore him, but that proved impossible.

"What?" I asked in response to the devious expression on his face.

"I was just thinking," Patch's pirate smile appeared, causing my stomach to flip, "about that black bra from yesterday. Are you wearing it now?"

My hands slipped from the bars as I opened my mouth for an flustered retort. I hit the ground hard, feeling the stinging impact on the top of my feet. Agony laced through my right ankle, causing me to gasp and stumble into the pole opposite Patch.

"And that's time...Elle?" Annie looked up from the stopwatch, concern lining her face. I grimaced in pain. I tested, putting some of my weight on my foot but stepped off it immediately.

"Elle?" It was Coach, crouching down to my level inquiringly. "You need the nurse."

"I'll take her," Patch drawled, winking at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"No," I fumed, "no way. I'd rather take myself."

Coach ignored my claims, signalling to Patch the way to the nurse's office. I groaned, exasperated. Patch's eyes were blazing black fire, as opposed to the first time I met him, where the ice of his eyes froze me where I stood. I blinked in confusion. He slid an arm around my waist, taking most of my weight. I felt uncomfortable being held so close to his body, my own feeling very soft next to his steel muscles. I was way past blushing, my complexion now a nice, rich pink.

"So it's nice to see you again," Patch teased, arm squeezing my waist.

"I bet it is," I muttered, concentrating on my ankle.

"You should stop demanding my attention so frequently, it's becoming embarrassing," he said nonchalantly. I scowled.

"Believe me, this isn't fun for me, either,"

"Hey, I never said this wasn't _fun_," Patch watched me from the corner of his eye, grinning.

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, Killer," Patch shook his head, swinging me up into his arms. I cried out in shock, winding my arms around his neck in a vice-like grip.

"Put me down!" I shrieked, causing him to wince.

"No, I need to take you to the nurse." He said firmly, his face only inches from mine. I gulped at the close proximity, and he grinned that feral smile again, turning his face towards mine. I tried to lean back, but the arm around my back pulled me closer.

Right then I had no doubt that Patch was something else. Not just a high school student, thinking he was down with his bad self. Something shady, I could feel the dark energy pulsing from him, the odd light in his eyes wasn't human. And I was almost positive I wasn't going to the nurse, not now.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Honestly, my ankle hardly twinges," I protested, squirming in Patch's arms.

He just watched me, his gaze flat black.

_Are you afraid, Elle?_

My head snapped up, my eyes searching Patch's face. "What?"

"What?" Patch was a picture of innocence- his eyes wide, tainted with just the right amount of concern- all except for his mouth. His lip was curled back over his white teeth, not a smile. A wolf baring his teeth at his prey.

"You..." I trailed off, not sure anymore. It was as if Patch had spoken right into my mind. Patch messed with my head, turning it inside out into a pile of mush.

We were just at the gym door when the panic kicked into fourth gear. The danger reeking from every pore in his body was choking me, buzzing around my head like an angry swarm of bees. My head reeled as dizziness tilted the world at crazy angles. A small whimper escaped my lips.

"You have to go to the Nurse, Elle," Patch whispered in my ear, his hot breath making me shudder, "you're losing too much blood."

_Blood?!_ I blinked and frowned. "But I'm not..." I looked down.

My whole right leg was stained bright red. Blood was gushing out of a jagged tear in my thigh, spurting through my fingers as I tried to stifle the flow, it soaked my socks and left my fingers tinged red. My breath was coming in ragged gasps as I looked around wildly, waiting for exclaims, cries. No one had even blinked, all were oblivious.

"Help," I murmured, my throat hoarse. I tried to clear it, "_Help!_" I clutched onto Patch's collar, pleading with him silently with bewildered, burning eyes.

His depthless eyes were like a mirror, reflecting the world around him to show a darker, smaller place. I was trapped there, face very pale surrounded by the dark. I felt like I was going insane.

"Coach!" I shrieked, thrashing against Patch's hold. His arms tightened, fingers biting deep into my knees and ribs. I threw an elbow up, catching Patch on the jaw. Apart from rocking backwards slightly, he didn't loosen his hold. "Let me go!" I shouted, pushing my hands against his chest.

Miraculously, I tumbled out of his arms. I hit the ground on my hands and knees, my chest heaving as I gulped for air. I could distantly hear Patch talking calmly through the roaring in my ears.

"...Don't know what happened," he was saying, "she just started screaming,"

A low mumbling, then someone squatted down to me. "Elle," Coach coaxed, speaking softly as if to an easily frightened animal, "what's wrong?"

I looked up at her incredulously. _Isn't it obvious?_ I wanted to scream. Are these people _blind?_

I opened my mouth to scream out blasphemy, hands reaching for my leg as I pointed down with wild eyes. And stopped short.

My leg was not covered in my blood, and there was no serrated cut streaming out bright blood into a pool where I sat. The world was no longer tilting, the edges glowing red like an inferno. My stomach rolled uneasily as I stared around, mouth agape. What just happened?

_Did I imagine it? Am I really going crazy?_

I stared up at Coach, Annie and the surrounding students; every single expression was a mixture of concern and wariness. Did that really not happen?

Then I locked gazes with Patch. He was watching me with a sly expression, a ghostly smile hidden under black eyes that sparked with excitement, humour ticking away behind the irises.

Anger bubbled up inside my chest and I knew right then I wasn't going crazy.

Unexplainable, yet unquestionably Patch _was _messing with my mind.

And that scared me more than anything.

* * *

"Hey, Hun," my mother's voice was chirpy along the phone, filling up the edgy atmosphere of my small car as I shut my door on the school. I press loudspeaker and dropped the phone into the grimy cup holder, ripping the engine and peeling out swiftly from my parking space. "How was your first day?"

I watched as the school got smaller and smaller in the review mirror, my chest finally beginning to ease up. "How was school?" I repeated, nails digging into the steering wheel. Crazy? Terrifying? Life threatening? "It was ok."

"Just ok?" my mother's sweet voice made the back of my throat burn with tears.

"Yeah. Listen," I said, trying to keep the tears at bay, voice trembling, "I'll talk to you about it later. I'm driving."

"Alright." She surrendered, "See you later."

"See you," I muttered, reaching for the END button.

I let out a shuddering sigh, trying to blink away the stupid tears blurring my vision. I reached my home, killing the engine as soon as I made the driveway. Then I just sat there, dazed. I watched as the sky began to gradually darken, the cloud bunch up into one.

The rain pelted down, the sound intensified inside the car. It blurred away the images of my new home, my new town, my new life. As if it was just me here, alone. And that was fine with me. I awkwardly slipped out of my jacket, and left my bag in the back seat, and opened my door up to the torrent of rain dropping from the sky. I stepped out, shutting my door with a slam and turning my face up to the heavens.

The cold, crystalline tears washed away my confusion, the deep unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. I stayed there, motionless, until I began to shiver, startling myself to realise it had gotten dark. I dashed back to my car and seized my backpack, running for the house. Fumbling with the keys in my numb hands, I finally managed to push it into the lock and hear the _click,_ allowing me entrance.

I only felt the barest relief when I shut the door behind me, throwing the bolt home. I slowly sunk to the floorboards, feeling the ridges in the wooden door as my back slid down. I took a deep breath, clutching onto the cold rain's clarity.

Patch couldn't make me _see _things, it was ridiculous! He was only amused because I was making an ass of myself. Yet, I did see my own blood drip to the gymnasium floor in great, fat globs. I massaged my temples, exhausted. My clothes stuck to me, my socks squelched inside my shoes.

Sighing, I hauled myself upright, using the doorhandle to steady myself. I made my way to the stairs, the prospect of a hot shower luring me like a siren call. Suddenly the lights flickered, and died.

"Oh _great," _I snarled, throwing my bag down in anger. I was not in the mood for this.

I leaped off the stairs, making for the kitchen. I almost slipped on the rug in shock.

In the middle of the doorway stood a silhouette. Its casual stance, the quiet, rolling laugh made my blood run cold. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. I stepped back, towards the door and the shadow just...vanished.

I blinked, squinting in the darkness. I clutched a hand to my head, the other at my throat where my heart threatened to jump out of. I took a step backward and swung around- coming face to face with the shadow.

The world turned black.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

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* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Elle!" a shocked gasp. "Oh my god, Elle, honey, can you hear me?"

My mother's voice sounded like she was shouting from the other side of a tunnel; distant, echoed. I tried to open my eyes, to find my lips and put her fears to rest.

"Mum," I mumbled, my mind finally clearing. My skull felt packed with cotton wool, fuzzy and stifling.

"Oh, Elllie, baby," I opened my eyes to find my mum bent over me, her eyes wide, a crease between her eyebrows. I blinked, baffled. I was lying on the rug in the hallway, staring up at the ceiling. My head throbbed somewhat. I pressed a hand to the side of my head, wincing.

"What happened?" I muttered, trying hard to push against the barrier in my mind preventing me from remembering.

"I don't know," my mother admitted, her lashes wet. "I just walked in, and you were lying there."

I made a noise and struggle to stand up. Mum put a hand under my elbow, helping me. I saw her bag had been thrown aside, the keys still in the lock.

"You're all wet," she wrinkled her noise.

"Got caught in the rain," I shook off her hand, swerving around her, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Honey, are you sure? What if you faint again?"

"No, I'll be fine. You hear a thump- then I've probably fallen over."

I turned away from her worry, balling my fists to prevent the shaking. Flashes were coming back to me. A silhouette, a quiet laugh, the lights flickering to darkness.

I glanced up at the lights now, how they glowed fiercely and warm. They seemed to be in perfect order. I swung open the door to my bedroom, half expecting the dark figure to be lying across my bed reading Harry Potter.

My room was in semi darkness. It felt cold, foreign to me. Everything was in place, just as I left it this morning. My pj's were in a rumpled pile at the end of my bed, the sheets were haphazardly tugged into place after my chaotic awakening.

My eyes slowly raked across my room, narrowed, searching. Nothing stirred, I tried to convince myself all was well, but the deep, unsettling sensation in my chest wouldn't let me relax.

Finally I gave up, taking my hand off the door handle and stepping fully inside. I flicked the light on, then marched up to the lamp on my bedside table and turned that on as well. It cast a restful, crimson glow through my room, chasing the shadows away. I wrapped my arms around myself for a moment, thinking. Then I sighed and gathered up my bathroom bag, lugging it with me to the shower.

The hot water burned me at first, making me swear - my skin was too cold. Slowly I began to relax; thaw out. My shivering subsided as I let the hot water unknot the tension from my first day of school. I only focused on my breathing, the running water, the steam curling up over the curtain to fog the mirror, to make the air thicker.

The taps creaked as I turned them off, cutting off the roar of the water. Pushing the flimsy curtain aside I stepped out onto the bath mat, making wet footprints. I snatched an oversized towel from the cupboard, wrapping it around myself snugly to prevent the heat escaping. Like that I crept out of the bathroom, shuddering at the cold air outside the sauna-like bathroom.

I closed myself in my room, shutting the door quietly behind me. I leant my forehead against the door, feeling fatigued. I adjusted my towel, tucking it under my arms and knotting it at the front. Then I turned around.

"OH MY FUUGHAELMSH," I tried to scream, muffled by the hand clasped roughly over my mouth.

"Shh! Shut up!" his eyes were manic, bright.

I had turned around, a sleepy sigh escaping me when a blur of black flew at me from the window. My back smashed into the door, my head cracking against the wood. The hand clamped over my mouth was hard, cool.

I stared into his eyes, black holes of wickedness. My own eyes were bugging out of my head, staring at him in bewilderment, terror. His other hand held both my wrists together, his body pressed into mine. His legs were tangled with mine, leaving them useless. I was at his mercy, and he knew it.

"Don't scream," he urged, and slowly took his hand from my mouth.

I glared at him, murder in my eyes, "_Patch."_

He just stared down at me, his hand still trapping my wrists. "What the _hell _are you doing here?!" I hissed, my heart pounding. I suddenly became very aware that I was only wearing a towel, my wet hair leaving beads of water to run down my shoulders.

"You're not safe here," he said, the intensity startling me.

'Duh," I shot back, "not with you here. Get out."

"No," he lowered his eyes, staring at my hands, so small next to his. His other hand came up to my face, brushing my wet hair back and lifting my chin. I trembled, not with cold. Patch's stare was scary, my bones felt as though they were melting. "Did you see who it was?"

"W-what?" I didn't understand his question. "I-I'll call police. My mother's downstairs, please," I half sobbed, "please, don't..."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured. Though I heard the words he uttered silently; _yet._

His eyes flashed as he ducked his head towards me. I was stunned, immobile. Very gently his lips brushed against mine, a feather of fire across my mouth. I sucked in a breath, shocked. He released my wrists, letting them hang uselessly by my sides. His hands slid up my arms, then into my hair. He knotted his fingers at the roots, holding me fast.

His lips were only a whisper away from my lips, his forehead against mine.

The fog began to clear from my mind, the adrenaline began to pump through my veins. I brought my hands up to his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Stop," I commanded, mustering my courage to look his straight in the face. "Today, at gym."

He let my hair go, but didn't move away. "What?"

"Oh shut up!" I scoffed, anger making my voice raise.

"You shut up," Patch shook me, gently.

"Immature," I muttered, then remember the point, "Don't play dumb with me, psycho. I know what you made me see at gym. I thought I was going to die," tears leaked out of the corner of my eyes.

Patch's thumb stroked my cheek, catching the tears there. His tenderness confused me. "I seriously have no idea what you're on about."

"You were laughing," I insisted.

"Because- because..." I stared up at him, astounded as he struggled for words.

"Because what!"

"Because you scare me!" he exploded, pushing away from me and turning away.

"_What?! _That doesn't even make sense!" I followed him as he went to the window. "Wait- what are you..."

He jumped out the open window, the chilled breeze ruffling the gauzy curtains, brushing my bare arms as I ran after him. I leant against the windowsill, squinting through the darkness, seeing nothing.

"Patch!" I called, my breathing shallow. What the hell was that?

Patch broke into my room, made me see things- didn't deny it. And he kissed me. I touched my lips, remembering the soft caress. My cheeks burned, yet I was afraid. This place wasn't safe, not while Patch was around. And if he could break into my room undetected, there was no stopping him.

"Oh, crap," I whimpered, shakily reaching up to slam the window closed, locking it with numb fingers. I looked down at myself- only in a towel. With Patch in the same room. And he didn't even notice. I'm not a vain person, but for him to not even blink about my little coverage was...strange. Something was messing with _his _head as well, something big.

_Serves him right._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Every night was sleepless, yet I could still dream.

Dark eyes watching me. Patch, with his back to me, scars in the shape of an upside down V bleeding over black feathers at his feet. Sometimes, that dream had two people. Patch and another. The other was in the dark, his face hidden. His shadow was silhouetted against a bright light, showing wings of those of a large bird, broken. Slowly decaying, the feathers brittle and dying.

I would always wake up in cold sweat just before he would turn to the light.

These dreams left me a walking zombie, dark circles under my eyes. I was jumpy, nervous. I would walk through the school halls like a ghost, books clasped to my chest, glancing over my shoulder several times. Annie would try to talk to me, and I'd make an effort to act normal. But I could sense her hint of worry behind the falsely cheerful questions she threw at me.

And worst of all, or maybe it was for the best, Patch stopped talking to me. The first time I saw him after the kiss in my bedroom, he glided past me, eyes forward. I felt a pang of something I couldn't identify. He never glanced at me; in sport I was all but invisible.

After weeks of not talking, I came to find I missed him. I tried to convince myself not to be idiotic, to not be pathetic. That Patch losing interest in me was safer, the best outcome. Of course it didn't work, I couldn't lie to myself. I began to miss his pirate smile – that's how depressed I was.

My parents weren't as oblivious to me as normal. Probably because of the 'fainting' episode. They watched me toy with my food, jump at every creak in the house and exchange glances.

"Elle..." my father began.

"I'm fine," I told them both.

"No, you're not," Mum cut in, shaking her head.

"It's fine!" My chair scraped against the floorboards as I got up, sweeping out of the kitchen. I stomped up the stairs, basically demonstrating how 'fine' I really was.

* * *

I was early to English, only a handful of students were scattered throughout the classroom, gathered in groups, chatting, laughing. Mr Dion was scrawling today's lesson on the board, glancing down at the textbook in his hand.

I slunk over to my table, dumping my heavy folder down with a _thump. _I slumped down in my chair then tuned out. I watched the rain sheet down, pummel against the windows. Outside was a grey smudge, the rain distorting the image. I was so absorbed in my mind that I didn't notice the chair next to me being pulled out, books being dropped onto the table.

"Ok, class," Mr Dion boomed, making me jerk back into the present. "Excuse me, Matt; do you have an excuse for being late?"

The rest of the class leaned in, faces alight with anticipation as Matt created another original excuse for his teacher.

"Is he always like this?" I blinked, not having realised someone was next to me.

"Pretty much, you would think the novelty would wear off, but it doesn't." I slightly turned my head to him, smiling a little.

He turned to me, a grin tugging at his mouth, and I raised my eyebrows, stunned. Eyes of the deepest, richest blue met mine, half hidden under the sweep of his dark, tousled hair. He was slouched in his chair, his height making the table and chair seem miniature, yet he still looked graceful, relaxed. He was wearing a dark t-shirt, and black jeans.

"Hey," his teeth flashed white, his eyes lustre.

"Uh...hi," I stammered, warmth flooding my cheeks. It took me a moment to realise I was blushing, something I hadn't done in weeks.

"I'm Luke, the new kid around here," he held out a hand to me. I took it, watching his large hand wrap around mine, the muscles in his forearm move.

"Elle," I looked up into his impossibly blue eyes, then glanced down at my feet. "Until now, I was the new kid on the block."

He laughed a deep, resonant sound, "Sorry to take your title."

I felt my lips curve up on their own accord. "No problems there, you're welcome to it."

At that point Mr Dion sent Matt to his desk, and commenced the lesson, cutting our conversation off. I slid my hand from Luke's, trying to explain to myself the tingling feeling in my stomach.

_It's just because I met someone new, that's all. _

Yeah, right.

* * *

The school bell pealed, Mr Dion tried to finish his lesson, unable to be heard behind the commotion of students desperate to get to lunch. He gave up, shaking his head slightly as he collected his bag and books.

I closed my writing book, then slid it into my purple folder. It took me a second to realise Luke was watching me expectantly.

"Yes?" I stood up, looking down at him. He chuckled and drew himself up to his full height, towering over me.

"I was hoping you would show me my way to the cafeteria," His eyes seemed to glow azure, making my insides warm.

"Yeah- uh...sure thing," I gave him a timid smile, his answering grin leaving me breathless.

We ambled out of the classroom, Luke questioning me about my move to Coldwater, and I in return asked him. He had an easy, playful personality that I could effortlessly get along with.

"Ok, seriously. I know you're lying to me," Luke leant against the locker next to mine, hands in his pockets.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" I asked him, wedging my book into the cramped space and pulling out a brown paper bag, slightly crumpled.

"A girl like you? Who's never had a boyfriend?" He shook his head, "It's not possible."

"Pfft, yeah ok," I shut my locker, turning to face him. "Are we going to go to lunch or what?"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Ok, ok," he held his hands up, surrendering.

I hid my grin behind my hand as we started walking again, trying to ignore the stares. As we neared the cafeteria door, the doors opened to reveal Patch loping out, his face smooth, eyes slightly troubled. As he turned towards us, the world seemed to slow down. I watched as he saw me, his automatic response of blanking me out kicked in, eyes quickly appraising Luke. Then he stopped in his tracks.

His dark eyes widened, his jaw threatened to drop. Then he seemed to turn to stone.

We were almost right next to him; I could feel the fury simmering, real heat blazing from his body. Then he looked at me. Right into my eyes, intense, desperate, yearning.

_Don't find yourself alone with him._

Patch's voice in my head again. I almost exclaimed out loud. Then he turned and strode away, his shoulders tight with anger.

My brows creased with confusion. Why was Patch's reaction to Luke so strong? Why am I hearing Patch's voice in my head? Maybe I am going insane, my old doubts came flooding back. And the words; don't find yourself alone with him. What does that mean?

I glanced up to Luke; he was following Patch's retreating figure, a strange light in his eyes. Then he met my gaze, cocking a thumb towards the canteen.

"I'm a growing boy, Elle, need my protein," he winked, then held the door open for me, gesturing for me to follow. I looked back at Patch, who had stopped at the end of the corridor, watching me. His face was unreadable, his black gaze piercing right through me. A jolt of fire went through my body, I hadn't felt this much emotion for so long. I bit my lip, and then followed Luke into the cafeteria.

_Careful, Killer._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"What was with that guy?" Luke murmured, ducking down to me in the lunch queue.

"Uh, who?" I feigned ignorance, shifting my feet.

"The guy with the death glare?" he pointed his chin to the door.

"No idea, some kid," I reached forward, grabbing two grey trays, handing one to Luke.

"And you're telling me you've never had a boyfriend? 'Cause, he looked pretty jealous."

"_Jealous?" _I choked. Patch, jealous? No.

"Seemed pretty..._exxy _to me," he raised an eyebrow.

I bit back a laugh, "Exxy?"

"Ex boyfriend." He looked away, avoiding my gaze. My eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, his lips slightly pushed out into a pout. I bit my lip to hide a grin despite myself.

"No, no way." The line moved up slightly, the hungry teens shuffling their feet impatiently.

Finally we managed to fight for our lunch, victorious – with the last slice of Hawaiian pizza.

Luke and I managed to score two seats in the quieter part of the cafeteria, though Patch's warning was still echoing through my head. _Whatever,_ I thought, slamming my lunch tray down.

_I keep it in mind._

Luke slid in opposite me, sapphire eyes boring into me. "What?" I asked self consciously, hand reaching up to pat down my hair.

Luke shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. His hand darted forward to steal my lemonade, twisting it open and bringing it to his lips. "Do you mind?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure, sure."

He grinned and took a sip. "Sorry, I was a few dollars short for a drink,"

_Oh._ "Oh, no problem."

He smiled sweetly, then glanced down to my foot, resting under the table on the chair next to him. My jeans must have ridden up to exposed wads of bandage wrapped tightly around my injury. "Your ankle."

"Oh," I was about to drop my leg, sliding it from the chair until he captured my foot, holding it there.

"No, its fine, leave it."

"Yeah, uh, fashion injury."

He smirked. "Dare I ask?"

"I wouldn't,"

He chuckled, and glanced down, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. "I like the accent," he looked up at me teasingly, leaning forward.

"You do?" I automatically tipped backwards, putting some space between us.

"Yeah," Luke tilted his head, studying me. "It's cute."

My cheeks flashed a dark red as I laughed.

What was Patch talking about? Surely I imagined it. There was nothing, _nothing_ at all that hinted Luke was dangerous, or even mysterious. He was the nicest guy I'd met here, teasing, friendly, and not to mention; he had the most amazing eyes.

Luke's gaze turned playful, his irises seemed to glow. I blinked, then let the slow grin spread across my face.

* * *

I hurried to my locker, trying to beat the after school rush. Patch hadn't turned up to Sport, I figured he was ditching. I snapped my locker open, hauling my bag out and stuffing the books I needed into the bag, struggling with the zipper. I knocked the door shut with my elbow, then headed for the doors. Skipping down the steps, I heard the chaos of the kids getting their stuff together. As I turned left for my car, a hand shot out from the shadows and yanked me sideways. Hard.

"Ouch! What the hell?" I half-shrieked, pulling against the grip on my elbow. Patch had pulled me into him, behind the coverage of the hedges and shrubs. "You know, there's this thing. It's called talking. You should try it; the man handling thing is getting old."

I peered up into Patch's face, startled that he hadn't delivered a smart ass comment yet. "Patch?"

His other hand reached around to grip my other arm. He brought his face close to mine. "Elle," he breathed, closing his eyes. I jerked my head back, looking him over, confused.

"What is this?" I nudged him with my leg, twisting my arms around to grasp his forearms. "You don't talk to me for weeks, don't see me. And now all of a sudden..."

He whirled me around swiftly, having me find myself with my back against the dusty concrete wall. "I didn't talk to you because; I didn't want to do it again."

"Do what?" I whispered, a little uneasy.

"Hurt you."

"You- you hurt me?" I drew myself up.

"Not...not physically. Every time I see you, every time I'm near you, I'm hurting you," he rested his head down on my shoulder, his hands shaking on my arms. His ear was right at my heart.

"Look," I began, unsure how to go about this. "I just need to know. Can I trust you?"

He stayed silent, his eyes boring into mine.

_I'll take that as a no?_

Patch raised an eyebrow and pressed me deeper into the wall. My heart began to thump painfully fast. "Don't," I began, not sure what I wanted.

"Don't what?" he murmured, twirling a finger around my curls, using that to pull my face closer to his. "You're right. Don't trust me. But that doesn't mean you're in danger. From me."

I opened my mouth to protest, then froze as brought his hand up to touch my cheek. His eyes didn't seem to be black mirrors, depthless, one sided as they once were. They were brimming with an emotion unnameable when describing Patch.

"What have you done to me, Killer?" he breathed.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The rain pattered gently against my window pane, the sun shining thinly through the clouds. I stretched sleepily, joints cracking. My ankle felt no pain. _Maybe it's time the bandage came off, _I thought with relief. It was one of those days where outside was grey, cold and wet, and I was inside wrapped in blankets. Warm, safe.

I curled into a ball, sighing. The luminous numbers on my alarm clock read 10:07 am. I peered over the edge of the mattress, where the book I was reading by the light of my lamp lay dog eared, the spine destroyed.

I peeled back the blankets, shivering as the heat evaporated. Staggering slightly, I made my way to the door, twisting my hair around my fingers. As I stumbled into the kitchen, my eyes immediately focused onto the bright yellow post-it-note stuck to the fridge.

_Elle,_

_Your Dad and I are going over to the Jones for brunch._

_There are leftovers in the fridge, just heat them in the microwave._

_Mum xx._

"Huh," I muttered, opening the fridge in search of breakfast. I chewed my lip, facing the first tough decision for today. I was saved from deciding between expired yoghurt and Mum's repulsive health shakes by the doorbell.

The tinny, shrill bell made me jump. I slipped on the leg of my too long baggy pj's, catching the corner of the counter to keep myself upright. I skidded in front of the door, taking a breath before opening the door a crack.

"_Luke?!"_

"Hope I wasn't...interrupting anything," he grinned, leaning against the door frame.

"What are you doing here?" My eyes widened suddenly, looking down at myself. Shapeless pink pyjama pants, a faded black tank top, one sock on, the other forgotten in the battle of dreams. And no doubt my hair was a tangled mess, snarls of dark vines curling to my waist.

"You must have dropped this," he held up my English novel, "after lunch."

I slammed a palm to my forehead. "Damn! I didn't even notice. Thank you,"

He gave a heart tugging grin, then raised an eyebrow. "Nice look, Elle."

_Oh God._

"Oh, umm." I gave a nervous laugh, then tried to duck around the door. Luke laughed, then caught the door handle, holding it in place. I gave a half hearted tug.

"Do you mind if I came in? I mean, it's ok if you don't want me to..." he scuffed the toe of his converse shoe against the porch.

I hesitated, then stood on tiptoe to examine his eyes under the brim of his cap. They were shadowed, more grey than blue, with one ring of mottled purple-black surrounding one eye.

"Luke!" I gasped, skittering back a step. "What happened to you?"

"I-I...it's nothing," he bit his lip, his face torn with some emotion. "I was just hoping, maybe, you could let me stay here for an hour or so. Just until things...calm down?" He raised his eyes to me, tearing the breath from my throat at the raw emotion that roiled through those jewels.

"I have nowhere else to go."

I swear my heart almost shattered right then and there.

I stepped back and held the door open wide. "I'll have you know, that to see me in this sort of attire is a very rare, unfortunate thing," I plucked at the hem of my tank top.

"Actually, I like this state of rumpled, unkemptness. Looks good on you," Luke's attempt at bravado was weak. The seams were splitting in his smile, revealing the pain beneath.

"Luke," I sidled closer to him, reaching up to take his hat. He flinched back, and I bit my lip, continuing to pull it gently from his head. The full light of day brought his injuries into definition.

His black eye looked ugly and demanding against his skin, his top lip was slightly swollen, dried blood leaving a trail from his lip to his chin. His clothes were crumpled and dusty, as if he had been rolling through the dirt. My heart skipped a beat in horror.

"Oh!" I clapped a hand to my mouth. "Seriously, what the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing."

I was about to push him, then thought maybe I shouldn't - at the moment. When he was ready to talk, he would talk. Images of a brutal, unshaven, balding man conjured in my mind, brandishing his clenched fist forward, retching words of anger, having it dribble down his chin. The thought made me shudder.

"So, uh, this is your house?" he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"No, this is just some random box I decided to crash in for the night, seeing as it was too wet for the park bench."

"Ok, ok," he laughed, shaking his head. "Stupid question, I know."

I smiled sadly, then touched his wrist. He looked down in surprise, then slid his eyes up to mine. I felt my cheeks burn slowly at my boldness. He twisted his hand around so that our fingers were intertwined. "Thank you," he murmured.

It was quiet then, silence rang in my ears. As if we were underwater. Luke's gaze turned intense, his hand squeezed mine. He leant forward, ducking his head. I tilted my chin up, my brain momentarily disconnected from my body. I could only watch his mouth, his cut up, beautiful mouth. One hand cupped my cheek, brushed my hair back. My hands began to tremble.

As I felt his breath sweep across my cheeks, Patch's face swam into my mind.

_Elle...don't._

I jerked back, breaking Luke's hold on me. "Oh! God, I'm so sorry..." Luke stepped back, his eyes held a hint of horror, and what seemed like...frustration?

"No! No, it's ok, I just..." I babbled on, my face getting hotter and hotter. "Uh, drink?"

Luke nodded, trying to save me from continuing to speak gibberish.

I pointed out the family room, then skipped to the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge, I bent over to scrutinise the contents. "We have Coke," I shouted over my shoulder, to the general direction of the family room, "water, juice. What would you like?"

"Coke, thanks," Luke's distant shout echoed off the floorboards.

After hauling out the unopened bottle of coke, standing on tiptoes to swipe two glasses from the cupboard, I carefully walked back to the front room.

"Luke?" I called out, uncertain. The front room was smothered in darkness, as if a large, black blanket had been wrapped around the house, blocking out sounds, sunlight. I steered forwards blindly, coke sloshing over me when I bumped into the coffee table. I set the glasses down with a sharp _click_, then squinted hard, trying to somehow see through the darkness. "Luke? Not funny," I tried to sound stern, but truth to be told, I was starting to feel a little freaked out. Mostly due to the low, deep thrumming I could hear, getting louder and louder, feeling it rattle my frame.

_Run._

That may or may not have been my conscious talking, but whatever it was I chose to listen. Turning on my heel I ran for the front door. I saw a tiny sliver of light seeping in through the crack of the front door; I kept my eyes on it. Suddenly, a chilling feeling swept through my bones, as if my blood had turned icy. A menacing, low growl came from the doorway behind me. I dared a glance over my shoulder to see two glowing, yellow eyes watching me.

They began to glow red as it stepped out of obscurity.

* * *

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**Tell me what you think!**

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	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The door smashed inwards behind me, the force of it knocking me to the ground. I rolled desperately aside, splinters of wood piercing my skin and tangling my hair. A deafening roar made me shriek, another low growl from the explosion of wood made me gasp. _Not another one._

Snarls, cracks and crashes attacked my eardrums. Shaking, I peered up from behind the coffee table, eyes bulging at the whirlwind of chaos I saw. It was like a tornado of black, rocketing off the walls, cracking the plaster, knocking picture frames to the floor.

_Get...out!_

Patch?!

_Go! Go Killer, run._

I scrambled upright and went for the door, flattening myself against the wall. Skirting the damage, slipping on shards of wood and glass, my hand slid around the curve of the door frame. Suddenly, everything went black.

"Oh!" I gasped, stumbling backwards into the wall. I blinked hard, but the fold of darkness wouldn't fade. The growls were getting louder, closer. "Help!" Then I cursed myself for bringing attention to poor, defenceless me.

"Elle!" Grunt. Thump.

The sound of a body falling heavily to the floor, the slithering of it being dragged aside over the diamonds of glass. My breath tore out of my throat; my whole body began to tremble. I was still blind. I waited, the seconds dragging on in the silence, the suspense shredding me apart inside.

Hot, damp breath hissed over my face, so close. Too close.

I could _feel_ its eyes on me. I retreated further back into the wall, my heart pounding painfully fast, as if it were trying to escape. I choked as I felt something brush my face, something soft and dry, like the leaves of a tree. I whimpered, feeling my eyes straining against the blindfold. Something curled around my upper arm, and I tried to shake it off. I felt something strong wind around my waist, like an arm. I pushed away, trying to break the hold. It pulled me in closer, my whimpers turning into choking sobs. The metallic tang of fear coated my tongue like honey.

_...Elle._

Hot tears ran down my face. _Please, God, help me, oh crap._

A whoosh of air, a pair of hands yanking me harshly from the iron grip by the back of my top. I was thrown to the floor, flashes of light flickering in my vision like a disturbance in a television program. I squinted at the dazzling white light, and then felt my heart sink as it went black again. The next flicker brought images. Two men throwing themselves at each other, punch after punch, fabrics tearing, the thump of fists hitting flesh. Then the darkness returned.

On my hands and knees, I began to slide towards- what I hoped was- the door. I winced as wood stabbed into my palms. Finally I felt the mat at the threshold and I flung myself forwards. Cool, fresh air enveloped me, I gulped at it greedily. But I knew the danger wasn't over yet. I rubbed at my eyes, lurching upright. Behind me I heard a loud smash, the sound of something full-sized being thrown brutally into another large, heavy object. My vision cleared.

I threw my hands up to ward off the full light, then whipped my head around. Inside was pitched black, the silence ringing out like a deadly omen. I began to run.

The stone path felt unsteady under my feet, the ground rising up to me every now and again. I wondered if I was on the verge of fainting. There was a pressure on my skull, pressing down. The light around me was becoming dim, not unlike the blindness from before. The world reeled around me. My knees buckled before I met the letter box.

I breathed in the damp earthly smell of the wet grass as I breathed in deeply, counting backwards from ten. I shuddered, choking on my breath as I felt rough hands flip me over. I stared up at the gun metal sky, stunned. Then someone loomed over me, blocking the sky.

"Elle, Elle – can you hear me?"

I blinked at the familiarity of that voice. How his concern and anger meshed together to turn into something gentle. I closed my eyes.

"Come on, say something. Please, Killer."

Patch. Two staring, blazing red eyes shone from behind my eyelids. My eyes snapped open, air scraped along my throat as it ripped out from my lungs. I flinched back wildly, knocking the back of my head on the letter box post.

"Ow!" I clutched my head, scooting backwards.

"Killer, its ok. I'm not going to hurt you," Patch held his hands up, walking slowly towards me. His eyes were wide. I stared up at him with fearful eyes, then felt my jaw drop.

Patch's shirt was ripped and clawed, blood splashed over his dark shirt like ink. His face was cut up and bruised, blood dripping steadily from a slash just above his left eyebrow. His black hair was matted with dust and dirt, sticking up around his head like a halo.

"Patch. _Patch!" _I gave a wild gasp and struggled to get to my feet. I wobbled, having to use the letter box to pull me up. Then I threw myself into his arms.

His arms pulled me into him, wrapping tightly around my waist as he lifted me off my feet. I had my arms twined around his shoulders in a chokehold grip, burying my face into the curve of his neck. I could feel him shaking beneath me. No, no that was _me_ shaking. My body was trembling uncontrollably, sobs I was unable to stifle against Patch's skin ripped at my chest.

"Shh, Elle. Its ok, I've got you. I've got you."

"Wh-wh-wha-" I was trying to ask Patch what the hell happened, but the word were unable to come out.

"Calm down. I'm taking you somewhere away from here, ok? I need to speak to someone." Patch loosened one arm from around my waist and used it to gather up my legs, cradling me against his chest. I was too dazed to tell him to put me down.

A huge black Jeep Commander came into view, parked half on the pavement, half on the road. Patch adjusted his grip on me, then reached out to fling open the door. He gently settled me onto the black leather seat, and then pulled the seatbelt around me, his fingertips lingering at my waist. I watched his face, the deep, simmering anger that was etched across his expression. Thankfully, I could see the resentment wasn't aimed at me.

"Hey," he stroked my hair, my pale cheeks. "Do me a favour."

I leaned my face into his palm, raising my eyes up to his. "Yeah?"

"Don't throw up on the leather interior," he gave a tired grin, as if all his sarcasm had been leached out of him. I nodded, then drew my fingers across my lips in a zipping motion. He gave a secret smile, then slid his hands down my neck. His fingers chased warm shivers of pleasure across my skin, causing me to shudder. Patch leaned closer to me, so that all I could see was him. His dusty skin, his depthless eyes, his smooth lips, curved into a smile. I closed my eyes as they pressed against my mouth, soft, warm. This kiss was gentle, sweet. Not crazed with passion, but something deeper.

His lips moved with mine in perfect harmony, I could taste mint on the tip of my tongue. His hands were searing hot, sliding down my back, coming to a stop at the small of my back. I tried to pull forward, but was restricted by the seatbelt. I gave a frustrated groan and attempted to untangle my arms from around his neck to undo my restraint. Before I could, Patch's hands snaked forward to capture my wrists. "No," he murmured, kissing my neck, "we have to go."

I tried to free my wrists, but Patch was too strong. "Keep telling yourself that." Why did we have to leave? Wasn't there something I had to do?

His lips roamed my jaw, then travelled up to the corner of my mouth. "Ok, I'm going to stop now," he tried to sound firm, his lips barely brushing against my skin.

"Mmmhmm," I sighed inwardly, tilting forward to reach his mouth. He pulled away at the last moment, grinning. "Hey!" I protested, pouting as he disentangled himself from our embrace. He shut the door, winking at me from the outside. Then he jogged around the front of the jeep to the driver's seat.

"Patch," I said absently as he turned the key and screeched out of park. His urgency to get away from my home was pulling out the memories that Patch's kiss had buried.

"Yeah?" he kept his eyes forward.

"What the hell happened?" I turned in my seat to face him, my stomach fluttering. "What _was _that? And...oh my God. Luke! Luke, I don't know where he is! Oh crap, turn around. Patch, _turn around_."

Patch ignored me, his gaze black.

"Patch! What if Luke is hurt? We can't just leave him! Oh, no," something dawned on me. "It already got him. That's why he didn't answer me when I called, and why it was dark. Oh," I smacked a hand to my mouth, blinking back the tears that pricked my eyes.

"Don't waste your tears on Luke," Patch snapped, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

"What? Why?" I gasped. How could Patch be so callous, so cold hearted? Luke didn't deserve that.

"Because," he took a deep breath, then shifted the full force of his gaze onto me, "Luke isn't who you think he is."


	10. Chapter 10

Hey guys, sorry chapter ten took a while...well it seems like its been a while :P

I'll have you know i ditched homework for this- not that there is much competition when it comes to homework vs. Patch

Anyways i hope you like this! Don't forget to review :D

xo

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Silence crackled through the air between Patch and I like static. I stared into his dark eyes, uncomprehending, trying to ignore the icy cold feeling that had just slipped down my spine.

"What do you mean," I asked quietly, "when you say Luke isn't who I think he is?"

Patch's eyes tightened, I could sense a battle raging behind his cool exterior. "Oh, you know," he muttered casually, "he doesn't have good intentions." He broke eye contact.

I narrowed my eyes; suspicions confirmed that Patch was hiding something. "Neither do you," I pointed out, "and yet here we are."

Patch had the audacity to ignore me, reaching up to pull his blue cap further down his head. All I could now see was his mouth, his smooth chin.

"_Patch," _I cried, enough venom in my voice to make a human keel over. He didn't react. _Fine, then._

I watched as the traffic light turned red. For a moment I thought Patch wasn't going to stop, but then breathed a sigh of relief as the Jeep reluctantly rolled to a stop. An opportunity blossomed right in front of me. Patch wouldn't talk? Fine, I'm out of here.

"I wouldn't."

Patch's quiet warning made me freeze. "Wh-what?" my eyes widened.

"I know what you're planning. It won't work." He turned to slide a look at me.

"You don't know shit," I scowled, eyes flickering to the red light, still blazing strong. It's now or never.

Swiftly I plucked the seatbelt from its buckle and kicked the door open. I felt Patch reach for my arm, hear his soft curse. I flinched away from his hands and jumped down from the seat. The Jeep was a lot higher up than I had originally estimated. Once my feet smacked against the road, I ran. I don't know why I was running from Patch exactly, considering the fact that he may have saved my life. All I knew was he was keeping something _huge_ from me, something that put me in danger and it was driving him crazy.

"Elle!" Patch called, slightly frustrated. I weaved in between cars , aiming for the footpath. I heard the groan of many cars rolling forward as the traffic surged forward again, and glanced over my shoulder to see the Jeep being taken with the tide of metal and wheels. He rounded the corner, and I leapt over the low fence marking the barrier between the road and the local park.

The park was deserted; the bitter weather out weighing the fact it was a Saturday morning. I hugged myself as the chilled breeze raised goose bumps on my bare arms, the cold going bone deep. The one sock I wore was damp, squelching against the dewy grass. I eyed the playground, the once bold colours dulled down after years of wear, a lonely swing gently swaying in the wintry draught. It was a depressing image.

I crawled into the small tunnel, curling up against myself. At least I was protected from the wind. I thought of my parents going home to that derelict house, seeing the broken down door, the smashed family photos face down on the floor. Tears dripped down my face, splashing on my knees. I watched them fall with distant interest. What is happening to my life? _Everything has gone upside down._

I drew in long breaths, fighting to gain control. Crying would do nothing to help me. But to gain control over an uncontrollable emotion is easier said than done. Images of those glowing eyes, of the mass destruction ramming off the hallway walls scraped at my mind. Of the blindness that was pressed upon me, I choked on a sob. Nothing had frightened me more than of my sight being stolen from me, leaving me vulnerable, easy prey.

A twig snapped outside. I whipped my head up, almost banging it on the concave roof of the tunnel. I hardly dared to breathe, tensing up all over. Someone was outside.

_Don't be stupid,_ I tried to tell myself, _it's probably just a kid wanting their playground back. You're a 'big' kid now._

But I knew, even as I was trying to convince myself, that no child would be so quiet, so stealthy. I balled my hands as they shook, fighting to keep my breathing slow and even. Then I heard it; footsteps going up the small set of stairs.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

"Aren't you a little old for playgrounds?"

"Gah!" I gasped, sliding sideways. One look at his furious, scorching black eyes sent me flying in the opposite direction. I didn't quite move fast enough.

His hand closed around my ankle, relentless in spite of my violent defence. My hands scrabbled for any purchase but came up empty. Slowly I slid across the plastic floor into Patch's awaiting arms. He grabbed my arm roughly, hauling me up to his level.

"Get off me!" I shouted, outraged.

"You ran,"he fumed; his hands now curled around the tops of my arms, "how you can be so stupid."

"_Stupid?_ It's not my fault; you refuse to clue me in when I'm in danger. Who's the genius here?"

"You have no idea what I would do if you got hurt."

My heart was hammering in my chest like a ticking bomb. Patch was too close to me, too close after that kiss. Suddenly for some reason that was all I could think about. How his lips caressed mine, how he held me like spun glass; delicate, fragile. Even his hands clutching my arms made my breathing quicken at the heat. I watched as a certain hunger developed behind his eyes, and that slow, wicked pirate grin appeared. The world around us seemed to dissolve into nothing.

Patch trailed his fingers down my bare arms, leaving a path of fire, yet raising goose bumps where he touched my skin. One hand stopped at my waist, curving around to pull me closer. The other hand grasped my wrist and tugged my arm up to loop around his neck. His eyes beckoned me closer. I stood on tip toes to reach his lips, but he was still too tall. He gave a chuckle and wrapped his arms around my body, lifting and perching me on the metal rails.

His lips met mine in a soft confliction, I could taste his anger and another emotion, something I couldn't even name- somewhat tender, raw. Beautiful. I gave a small gasp and ran my fingers up his neck, knotting them into his soft, dark hair. Patch gave a guttural noise, something between a growl and a groan, and pressed me even closer to him- if that were even possible. We were chest to chest, so tightly packed it must have been painful. Yet I didn't feel any discomfort. My legs were wrapped around his waist as if he was a lifeline and I was slipping off a cliffs edge. His hands were burning through the thin material of my singlet, and I shivered. Then I began to shake.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling away, "cold?'

"I-I...n-no," when did it get so cold? I was sweltering a moment ago. Now I felt as if I were going to freeze, my hands blocks of ice.

Patch pressed his lips to mine delicately, once, twice. "Come on, we need to go." He tugged me forward so I slipped off the metal rails. Patch gave a small grin and began to tug off his black hoodie, ignoring my protests as he wrapped the warm material around my shivering frame.

"No, you'll g-get cold," I attempted to untangle myself from him, but his hands reached forward to grasp the metal rail behind me, one hand on either side, eliminating escape.

"I don't get cold," he murmured, bringing up the hood over my hair. I looked down at myself, cringing at the ridiculously too long sleeves that hung well past my fingers, and the hem of the jacket reaching mid-thigh. I glanced up in time to see Patch flash a wicked grin that showed his white teeth, before he caught either side of the hood around my face to pull me close. His lips brushed against my mouth for one swift moment before he moved back.

I blinked, dazed. "You don't get cold? Ever?" I stumbled after him, tripping over my own feet. I was too stunned too even stop in time when he swung around. I rebounded off his chest where his hands caught me. His eyes held me in his trap as he looked down at me. His smile reminded me of a fox.

"Not with you, Killer."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Ow, oh perfect," I hissed through my teeth, trying to pull out a massive splinter wedged under my skin. I shook out my hand, attempting to distract myself from the twinging pain in my palm. I saw Patch steal a glance at me from the corner of my eye. "It's not funny," I scowled at his smirk.

"Considering the fact that you could have gotten a much worse injury, yet you treat this _splinter_ like it's a broken leg. Yeah, it _is _funny," I glared at him, trying to smother the reluctant smile.

"I hate splinters," I told him, then went back to examining my palm. "Damn, why are you so stubborn?" Patch shook his head, amused, and rolled the Jeep to a stop on the side of the deserted road. Trees lined both sides of the dusty highway; no buildings could be seen at either end of where we stopped. Though the feelings I felt for Patch were mostly positive and, at times, inappropriate, I still felt a shiver of apprehension at the fact I was alone with him on an abandoned road.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused. Patch unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, letting in a jet of cold air. He shut the door softly and sauntered to the passenger side, smirking as he opened my door.

"Give me your hand," he commanded, holding his own out, waiting. My eyes narrowed.

"No way," I shook my head, childishly hiding my hands behind my back. Patch raised an eyebrow and gave me a look. I'm not certain that the look was supposed to be seductive, yet I still felt myself blush. His teeth flashed and his eyes glittered.

_Elle, give me your hand._

I felt my body go rigid, my breathing stopped. Without my consent I watched as my hands slowly came from behind my back to Patch's outstretched hand. _What the hell?!_

"Oh!" I gasped as I gained control, snatching my hands back at the last second. "What did you- I _heard you..._ my- my hands..." I looked down at them in wonder, then slowly lifted my eyes up to Patch. "What are you?"

"An angel."

"Ha-ha. Seriously," I gave him a hard look. A peculiar expression crossed his features before he grinned evilly.

"You're right, I'm the devil."

"Well that _does _seem to fit better, but I'm still waiting for the truth."

Patch tilted his head slightly, eyeing my face. Sadness rolled across his eyes like a cloud moving to block out the sun, dulling his glinting eyes to a flat black. "I'm just me, Elle."

"But I _heard _your voice-" I began hotly, cheeks burning, until he reached forward swiftly to cover my mouth with his hand. "Mmphh!" I mumbled, fuming.

"Killer, shut up. You have no idea about anything right now, so best to stop jumping to conclusions. I am the _least _of your worries." His eyes burned into mine. _The _least_ of my worries? Damn, it's worse than I thought._

"Please, trust me," he urged, then held his hand out. I stared at it, noting the long, elegant fingers outstretched, waiting. There was a thick, metal ring that settled on his index finger, tiny, scrawling writing inscribed along the smooth surface.

I closed my eyes and frowned, reluctantly holding my hand out to him. I felt his cool hands on my skin, one circling my wrist and the other cradling my palm. "Hmm, you have tweezers?" he asked, voice dubious.

"Tweezers? Sure, they're right there with my wallet, phone and clothes that I also managed to bring with me." I opened one eye to peek at him and shook my head, exasperated.

"Ok, ok, calm down." Patch lifted my hand up to his eye level, then grabbed my palm and began prodding the skin around the offense. Then he brought his mouth over my hand and, as I watched with disbelief, removed the splinter with his teeth.

"What the hell?" My eyes bugged out of my head, a flash of warmth shooting up my arm as his soft lips touched my skin. "Ooh," I squealed at the sting, wrenching my hand out of Patch's grip to clutch it to my chest. Patch turned his face away and spat the wood out with a gust of breath.

"There," he flashed a feral smile, "all better."

* * *

"Where are we?" I asked curiously, glancing out the windows. We were rolling along the road so fast the trees were a blur, the bland buildings forming as one solid grey wall.

"This is the place where I am going to kill you, Elle," Patch slid his eyes darkly to me, pressing the locks down in one swift movement. I opened my mouth in astonishment, feeling as if my stomach had dropped down onto the car floor. "Relax," Patch chuckled, flipping the lock up, "you need to loosen up, Killer. You might snap."

I imagined laser beams shooting from the death glare I was sending Patch, causing that triumphant smirk to be blasted off his face. Pressing my lips together to prevent me from screaming, I turned away from him and kicked the door open. The cold shocked me, lifting my hair up to swirl around me, whipping into my eyes. The gusty wind was tainted with a brackish tang, which almost certainly meant that wherever we were, we were near the coast.

"Jesus, it's cold," I shivered, pulling Patch's jacket tighter around me. Patch came around the front of the car and stepped closer to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. He pulled me close to him, half concealing me from the twisting of chilled air.

"Come on, its number 53." Patch squinted up at the row of buildings in front of us, then closed his eyes as if in deep concentration. When his eyes snapped open , a glint of wicked amusement flickered, lighting up the black. "This way," he nodded forward, pulling me along beside him.

What greeted us as we hurried along the deserted parking lot were rows and clusters of hotel rooms, all blandly decorated and obviously cheap. I picked my feet up cautiously as rubbish swirled around my ankles. "Um, explain again what we're doing here?" I squeaked.

Patch tightened his hold on me, "I need to talk to someone about your- _my_- problem." Finally we had reached the door with a faded number 53 scrawled on the wood. I thought I heard Patch chuckle under his breath, but I couldn't be sure. Then he reached forward a rapped three sharp knocks. Murmurs, a giggle then a thump came from within. I shot Patch a bewildered look. Then the door swung open.

"Can't you see the tie on the door- _Patch?" _A tall, lanky man stood in the doorway, wearing only black boxer shorts, his long, defined limbs shiny with perspiration. Dishevelled, blue-black hair stood up all around his head as if he had just rolled out of bed. As I was busy taking in his appearance, he shifted his bemused gaze from Patch to me. Then he grinned. I dropped my eyes immediately, staring down at my feet.

"Rixon, sorry to interrupt. Miss," he nodded behind Rixon inside the room. My eyes unwillingly flickered up to see a women standing in a man's shirt by the bed, her blonde hair chaotic and her cheeks flushed. Mortified, I inwardly groaned at the sheer awkwardness of the situation.

"Not at all, Patch. It's been too long. But, mate, could you at least have called first?" Rixon shook his head, then turned his torso to mutter to the woman. "Well then," he faced us again, "who do we have here?"

"Elle, Rixon. Rixon, Elle," Patch gestured.

"Pleasure to meet you, Elle." Rixon stuck a hand out to me, one in which I slid mine into somewhat reluctantly.

"Hi," I mumbled. I glanced up in time to see Rixon send Patch a look, to which Patch nodded.

"Believe it or not, old friend, I didn't just come out here to interrupt your morning routine. We need to talk," there was no questioning Patch's tone. Rixon nodded, his eyes flitting to me again, this time there was concern there.

"Come on in love, you look like you could use something hot to drink," Rixon smiled kindly, his Irish accent somehow making him seem more charming.

"So what's going on? And is Elle aware?" Rixon nodded at me once we were inside the cluttered room.

"Aware of what?" I demanded.

"I'll take that as a no," Rixon laughed nervously.

All went silent as the woman bustled through, the men's shirt discarded in favour for a tiny dress and a grey cardigan thrown over the top. A pair of strappy heels dangled from her hands. Rixon snagged her around the waist and planted a flurry of kisses on her mouth. She giggled as she tried to disengage herself. "I'll call you," Rixon murmured, sending her a disarming smile. After a frantic wave with her manicured fingers, the woman was gone.

"Well now," Rixon leant forward, elbows on his knees, "what's up?"

Patch was hunched in his chair, his beat up black boots pushed up against the coffee table. At Rixon's question he looked up darkly, his expression sending a shiver down my spine. "It's not what's up that's concerning me. It's what's come down here that I'm worried about."

Rixon's eyes bulged. "No," he whispered, hands clenched, "You don't mean..."

"Lucian has joined us."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

I divided my gaze from Patch to Rixon, noting the tension, the unease emitting from them both. They sat as statues, hard and unmoving. "Lucian?" I whispered. "Who the hell is _Lucian?! _I thought Luke was the problem?"

Rixon's face flushed an angry purple. "How about that drink, Elle. Tea? Coffee?" He struggled to school his features into an expression that was both calm and untroubled. He failed.

_Ew, coffee._ I wrinkled my nose automatically. "I'm fine, thanks" I replied, distracted. "Please, what is going on?" I stared defiantly at Rixon, watching as his resolve slowly crumbled.

"Patch, mate," he turned to Patch, eyes uncertain. "She's already in too deep. There's no other way." I frowned, twisting around to Patch. He was staring at Rixon murderously.

"I said leave it," he growled, edging slightly away from where I sat next to him on the couch. I raised my eyebrows, leaning backwards, grasping the arm of the sofa for support.

"Hey, Rixon is right. If it is Luke you're talking about, then I am involved." I took a deep breath, digging my nails into the couch arm. "And if it involves you in some dark, twisted way, well...I don't care."

Patch reacted to that, his dark eyes widening in shock. "Oh," he chuckled darkly, "we'll see about that." Rixon sat anxiously on the bed, raking a hand through his ruffled hair. He stood up, muttering about a shirt and pants and mouthwash. Then he was gone.

Immediately Patch leant forward, so fast I missed the movement. All I knew was from where he was on the other side of the sofa, a large expanse of material between us, he suddenly appeared inches from me. Once again his scent of mint swarmed over me, sending my nerves into a frenzy. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" His breath tickled my face, sending loose strands of hair to flutter.

"I'm tired of being left in the dark." I tilted my chin up boldly. Acceptance rolled across his face, and another emotion flickered deeply in his eyes, so deep in those pools of night I almost missed it. It was... no, it couldn't be. I must have been seeing things. Patch could never be _afraid. _

"What do you know about," he looked down, lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones, "about...angels."

_Angels._

I had to swallow before forming a reply. "I know enough to know that you aren't one, you're too," I waved my hands around, searching for an adjective. Only one I could settle for, "dangerous."

He grinned a savage grin. "Good girl, you're very observant. Yet, you're 50% wrong."

"What am I half wrong about?" I chewed my lip, a quiver of dread beginning to blossom in my stomach.

"Well, you're half _right_ about me being dangerous," he gave a mirthless laugh, "yet you're half wrong about me not being an angel."

It was silent for three counts. Then, "I don't understand," I wrung my hands together, "how can you be an angel, but be dangerous. Aren't angels supposed to be good?" A large part of my mind screamed at me to reject the idea. That is was preposterous. _Angels, _it scoffed. Yet...

My mind cast me back to that fateful day when I first heard Patch's voice in my head. In gym, being carried away in Patch's arms when the unexplainable panic kicked in. Then I had thought I was going insane, but now...

"Your voice in my head," I whispered, afraid to look at him. His hands tightened into fists in his lap.

"Well done," he spoke softly, "and there's more."

"The- the blood. My leg, you made me think I was dying," I finally raised my eyes to Patch, well aware that blatant mystification was painted across my face. He was watching me from under his lashes. He gestured for me to go on.

"And then afterwards, at my home. You were there, you made me pass out..." I trailed off at the perplexed look on his face. "Didn't you?"

He shook his head slowly, "No, that wasn't me." His frowned deepened, then understanding brightened his expression, "When I crept up to your room that night, I could see your mind had been tampered with. Someone had planted pictures in your head; someone had caused your mind to shut down briefly. That someone wasn't me. So that had to mean that there was another one around." The memory of that night was as clear as day; Patch standing so close to me, one hand touching my face, the other holding my wrists in shackles, '_Did you see who it was?'_

"I was afraid," he continued, unaware of my flashback, "that they had discovered my fascination with you. That they would punish me by going after you. So I stayed away." I opened my mouth to blurt out the thousands of questions bouncing off my skull, but he carried on relentlessly. "Then I saw him."

I shivered at the cold danger in his tone, then held my hands up, "Ok, back up," he closed his mouth with an audible _snap_, "explain to me first; _what_ are you exactly? A bad angel?" The scepticism was apparent in my voice. "And there are others?" Patch cut me off with a sly smile and held one finger to my lips.

"I am one of the fallen. An angel cast from heaven for evil intentions and actions. I initially thought that when an angel had been barred from heaven, he would become a human. Not cursed, set to roam earth for eternity, never really part of the human race but on the edge. Behind a veil." His voice was bitter, his eyes far away.

"Why were you... banished?" There was a hesitant toll in my words. Patch's eyes sought out mine, and a rogue smile crept out.

"Lust."

"Oh," I looked down, fighting the urge to scream out: _what the _hell_ is going on?!_

"What the hell is going on? Elle that's what I am trying to explain," Patch grinned. My jaw dropped.

"Omigosh, you can read my mind?" Patch nodded and shrugged. "H-how often do you do that?" I tried to control the trembling in my voice, either from humiliation or horror I wasn't sure. I always thought my mind was mine and mine only. Now it seems my own thoughts weren't safe.

"Relax, Killer. I don't constantly read your mind. Only occasionally, when you get that thoughtful little look on your face, or when you start to turn that delicious shade of pink. Then I _have_ to have a look. And please, don't panic. I don't blame you that I am in your head almost every minute of every day. I'm irresistible, it is actually quite problematic." Patch's matter-of-fact tone contrasted with the playful spark that lit up his eyes.

"Shut up," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. Patch sniggered. Lowering my hands, I glared at him and whipped out, "and Luke? Is he...fallen?"

Patch's smile vanished. "No..."

I let out a sigh of relief.

"But he will be soon."

My head jerked upright, "What?"

"Lucian, or Luke as you know him, is an angel. Yet he has been down on Earth for far too long, his mind set on a much too...evil setting. His wings are slowly disintegrating. He and I...we were best friends a long time ago. Before I had fallen, of course. More than best friends, we were brothers. "

"What happened?"

Patch sighed and, almost absent minded, he picked up my hand and clasped it in both of his own. "Lucian was a guardian angel. Guardian angels are not very highly ranked, yet Lucian –_Luke_- never had a problem with it. It really isn't so bad, I guess. Really depends on who you have to protect. His was a girl, a girl he watched grow up. He confided in me one night, that after watching her for years and seeing how beautiful and kind and lovely she had become, he came to find himself in love with her. Love between an angel and a mortal is forbidden, as it can create a _whole_ lot of problems," he noticed my confused expression, "I'll explain _that_ to you another day. Anyway, where was I?"

"Love between an angel and a mortal is forbidden," I tried desperately to conceal the crushing disappointment that was smashing my heart to pieces.

"Thanks. After Luke told me he was in love, I swore to him to keep it hidden from the others. He knew he could trust me," Patch laughed bitterly. "Then as I was roaming the earth one fine autumn day I saw her. This complete stranger, yet the aura surrounding her was so sweet, so lovely. Her hair burned a blazing red and her eyes were almost the exact shade of the mid-day sky. The feeling that overwhelmed me was so strong, it took all my power then not to take her and whisk her away right that instant."

My heart gave an unhappy tug. I never knew Patch to be so poetic.

"I knew the rules, yet my mind had already thought of a solution. _Become human for her._ So simple," Patch gave a harsh laugh, his hands tightening around mine. "I didn't know that the Archangels would rip my wings out and toss me down to earth like I was a heap of rubbish. I could have never known that I would always have a hunger for humans, a hunger to be a part of it all. A hunger that I could never fully satiate."

"And the girl?" I wondered why I was punishing myself further.

"I found her, I wanted her again, and that instant blast of lust hit me just as hard as the first day. Then Luke came to me." Patch closed his eyes. "He lunged at me, moaning like an animal in pain. The words he spat out were like spears driving into my heart. '_That woman that you hold in your arms. I am her Guardian,' _the connection I had always shared with him had been cut, severed by his hateful words and my ignorance."

My mouth was hanging open in shock. The woman Patch fell for- in the literal sense- had been the one Luke had fallen in love with, doomed to always watch and protect, never to hold.

"So...so all this hatred comes down to a girl? I mean, sure, that sucks for Luke, but talk about holding a grudge!" I shook my head incredulously.

"No," Patch murmured, "that he would have forgiven me for, in time. He hates me now for what I did to her."

My stomach flipped. "What did you do?"

"I killed her."

My breathing cut short.

"And for that my almost-brother wants me dead."


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, thank you for being so patient!!**

**i have no idea why this is taken so long, i guess i just havent been feeling it. :/**

**but i decided i was in the mood for some more Patch, and i couldn't leave my amazing readers hanging so cruelly.**

**enjoy**

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**C****hapter Thirteen **

Time stopped, the world seemed to pause in its revolution- from shock, or perhaps denial. There was a roaring in my ears, like waves crashing onto the shore, desperately climbing up the sand with its foamy fingers before being dragged out to sea again. I could swear the ticking of the clock hanging on the burgundy wall stopped, before starting up again double time.

Patch's eyes went from dark and unreadable to anxious in an instant. He leaned forward, reaching out to me, withdrawing his hand when I flinched. "Elle..." he began, his brows furrowed.

I wondered why his expression was one of concern, of all emotions. Then I realised something. The speeded pendulum of the clock was not the timepiece as I initially thought. It was me, _my_ pulse hammering away as if numbered, _my_ breathing harsh and short, hissing through my teeth. My face felt bloodless, my eyes wide.

"Need some air," I mumbled, then staggered to my feet. To the door, to light, away from Patch who, in my mind, was darkness. Away from this room, where outrageous, _impossible_ secrets were being unsheathed. No, I couldn't believe it. Patch couldn't _kill_ someone! But even my mind's voice faltered as I realised my words were not completely true. Lurching to the doorway, I heard Patch heave himself off the couch, hesitantly following me. Panic seized me in a chokehold grip. I turned around and glared at him in alarm, backing away until the small of my back hit the balcony rails.

"Elle, please calm down. You don't know the full story yet," he pleaded, standing a distance away, hands raised, palms held forward.

"Just- stop," I commanded, clutching onto the rails. I held a hand to my throat, trying to quieten the haggard breaths. Patch _killed _someone? Oh god.

Patch took a step closer, "Listen- "

I sidestepped away, "I listened, ok? I listened very carefully. I heard what you said, you- you _killed_ this girl! Somehow, if Luke wasn't out to kill me because of you, I would feel pity for him," I backed away from his advance, matching every one of his steps with two of mine. "Why don't you tell me, Patch?" I wheezed; my breath hitching as I tripped over my own feet. "Why did you have to bring me all the way out here? Huh? Out of the way, a secluded, crappy piece of nowhere? It wasn't because you were gonna kill me as well? Come on, Patch. Isn't that what you do_?"_ As I was blurting out stupid words, my mind was busy calculating how fast I could get away from this place, and where the closest baseball bat was available.

Patch lengthened his strides, his eyes a murderous black. "Don't make me regret telling you this," he snarled. My mouth opened in distress as he grabbed my wrists and used them to pull me to him. I resisted with all my might, my heels digging into the concrete. He released the hold on my wrists to shift his hands to my shoulders, whirling me around so that he could back me against the wall. My shoulder blades grinded painfully against the smudged grey walls. Glaring up at him, I struggled to hide the fear that made my heart flutter. Well...it was _mostly_ fear- for his cheekbones_ did_ look very sharp when his mouth was twisted in anger.

Despite this I gathered all the self defence tips I had been taught, or picked up over my life. I stared up into his eyes, trying to read them. All I got was a blank wall. Sucking in my cheeks and rolling my tongue, I spat at him. He jerked back in surprise, glancing down to see if there was any damage to his nondescript black t-shirt. In his distraction I placed my palms on his chest and shoved him away. He swayed back and I ducked away from him, sprinting for the stairs. _Stupid, stupid!_ I screamed at myself repeatedly. I always new Patch was dangerous, and now I find out he's a freaking _fallen angel_?! What the hell is happening with the world?

I reached the stairs, and as I was about to swing over the rails and drop to the next level, I glanced over my shoulder. He was gone. I almost slipped in shock. He must have given up and returned to the hotel room. My heart was still hammering, and I jumped down anyway. It wasn't too much of a long drop. But, before my feet could hit the concrete, strong hands snagged me from mid air. His hands burnt their way up my thighs, brushing against the skin of my waist before he gained control. I gasped at his cool hands under my tank top, momentarily stunned. Setting my feet on the ground, Patch wrapped his fingers around my arms, shaking me. My head lolled side to side before I shook it, clearing the cobwebs from my mind. Then the struggle began.

"Let me go," I commanded, throwing my elbows out to wrench myself free. He didn't budge.

"Please, please Elle listen to me. I never thought you'd be a girl to freak out," he begged, shaking his head, a small smile teasing at the corner of his mouth.

"Patch, please. If you care about me at all, you'll let me go. I need...time." I struggled with blinding tears that filled up my eyes, desperate to be out of his sight when they fell.

"No. Cry, its ok. I know it's...hard to hear." Patch closed his eyes, his hands turning gentle. "But I need to explain this. I can't let you leave thinking I'm a cold blooded murderer. Because I'm _not._"

I stared up at him sadly. "I want to believe that."

Patch looked away, narrowing his eyes to the distance, though it wasn't very sunny. "Walk with me?" he turned back to me, his eyes dubious.

A shiver of trepidation went down my spine. "Ok." I hesitated, glancing down to my bare feet. I looked back up to Patch, watching as his eyes flashed down, then met mine again with understanding.

"Hang on a second," he murmured, then glared towards the balcony rails. When his eyes met mine once more , there was a spark of humour that lingered for a second.

"Oi!" I jumped. Patch and I both looked up. Rixon was grinning, hanging over the railings on the second floor. In his hands dangled a pair of strappy sandals. "Look out below," he laughed. I threw my hands up over my head, bracing myself for the impact as I saw the soles of those shoes coming straight for the top of my head. It never came. I peeked over at Patch to see him swinging the shoes in his hands.

"Wow, Rixon. Didn't think you were one for heels."

"Aye, they are a nice pair. I personally prefer stilettos for me," he winked at me. "Nah, they were a, er, 'friends'. She must have forgotten them."

"Um, thanks?" I called up to him, taking the shoes from Patch. I crouched down to fasten them to my feet, surprised that they fit me. I wobbled slightly as I stood up. The heels weren't _that _high, but they were high enough.

It began to drizzle as we ambled along the slushy road, hands in pockets. We were silent for a while, trudging along the mud-spattered highway. I had to pick my feet up carefully, for the heels would sink into the soft ground at every step. I was clumsy, though. Trying to yank my foot free of the mud's grasp, I fell forward as my foot twisted inside the straps, unable to break my fall for the other foot was still amidst the mire. The ground surging up to meet me was not a very pleasant sight, and though the scene played in what seemed like slow motion I wouldn't have been able to save myself regardless.

"Oof!" I huffed, on my hands and knees. I could feel the cold, slimy paste of the ground seep into the knees of my pyjama pants, squelch against my fingers. "Ohh, yum," I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

Patch was gazing down at me, a mixture of emotions clashing behind his eyes. I sat back on my haunches and turned my hands over, seeing the mud caked into the whorls on my fingers and the cracks in my palms.

I narrowed my eyes at him, identifying one of the emotions as amusement. _If you laugh so help me God I will..._

That did it.

For the first time ever, perhaps, I saw Patch lose it. It happened slowly. Gradually his composure slipped, his lips curving at the corners. His eyes glowed, as if a fire flickered behind them. His smile was blinding in its glory, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin as he laughed, his shoulders shaking in his jubilancy. He doubled over as he guffawed, unaware of my crossed arms and raised eyebrow. He straightened up with a wide smirk plastered on his face, not seeing the handful of mud I slung at him. He blinked at me, immediately sobered up at the great smear of mud on his shirt, splatters dark against his throat.

"Hah!' I pointed at him, unable to hide the devious grin. At his raised eyebrow I had to bite my lip to stop snorting with laughter.

"You are so dead," he shook his head in mock-sadness, clawing his fingers through the mud to scoop up a huge hunk of sludge. I shook my head furiously, my feet digging into the ground to push myself back.

"No! I was joking! Patch- "

_Splat._

...I really didn't need mud in my hair.

"Fallen angel or not, I _will _kill you." I scrambled upright and kicked an arc of dirty water up at him; he danced back with a laugh. Simultaneously we crouched down to shovel mud into our palm, flinging our hands upwards.

After a short few moment I could see I would in no way come out of this tournament alive, or if not that, with dignity. So I did what any self respecting coward would do. I turned on my heel and ran like hell was following me.

"Oh no, you don't!" Patch sprinted after me, his long legged strides matching two of mine. I could hear the easy breathing of immortal breath on my neck, the spatter of mud hitting my legs as he closed in on me. His hands grabbed at my arms, slowing me before wrapping around my waist. His arms snapped around me to trap me against his chest, helpless as he smeared the mud from his hands over me.

"Eww, ok! Ok, stop," I giggled manically, twisting out of his arms.

"Look at you," he shook his head, his eyes glittering down at me. We stared at each other until the adrenaline died out, and ancient sadness replaced Patch's earlier ecstasy. "I guess we need to get this over with," he said, twisting the ring on his finger.

"Yeah," I murmured, taking a step away.

Patch took a minute to compose his thoughts, raking a mud caked hand through his dishevelled hair.

"It all started with a secret..."

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I'll have you know those who review will get to have a mud fight with our dearest Patch ;)

ahha xo


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey there, thanks for waiting :)_

_as promised, to those wonderful reviewers i will be sending out a crate with patch and non artificial mud to your home address. you will recieve this between 2-3 days...0.0_

_ahha anyways, i hope you like this chapter!_

_review review review_

_xo_

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**Chapter Fourteen**

Patch's mud streaked hands were shoved deep into his jean pockets, which were also caked with dirt. He clenched his jaw, weighing his words carefully. I stayed quiet, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. I studied his face; the shallow cut above his eye brow, his black hair in tufts around his head like a dark halo. _That's appropriate, _I laughed darkly under my breath.

"As you know, the love between an angel and a mortal is forbidden. If a mortal found out about our secrets it would throw the whole balance of the world and heaven out of whack."

My brow furrowed in realisation, "But, Patch. I know. What does that mean for me?"

Patch snuck a look at my stricken face from the corner of his eye, smirking slightly. "Hmm, shall we keep this our little secret then? And anyway, I'm a fallen angel. I'm supposed to be bad."

"To the core," I muttered, unconvinced. If I know about heaven and angels, and angel magic...wouldn't that mean I've thrown the whole thing 'out of whack'?

"Killer, relax," Patch reached over to sling an arm over my tense shoulders, using that to pull me closer. "I would never let someone hurt you. I'm different now." His voice reverberated out of his chest, loud and unclear against my ear. He didn't see the flash of doubt across my face.

"How were you then?" I asked in a small voice, clutching onto Patch's arm when the mud tried to claim me again. Patch slid his hand down to my waist, taking most my weight to hoist me free. My cheeks burnt hot despite the cool air.

"Then I was...resentful, angry, and wild. A foota." Patch snorted, his humour showing as his white teeth glimpsed through his lips.

"A _what?"_

"A foota. Fresh-out-of-the-air. A little name we would refer to those who may have fallen."

I raised my eyebrows, then joined in with his chuckles. "Angel humour, who would have thought," I grinned slyly up at him. "That's real lame, you realise?"

"'Course it is," he scoffed, "Angels have a shitty sense of humour. That's because the only good sense of humour requires a little bit of evil." Patch winked down at me at this, his eyes laughing.

"Quite stalling," I nudged him, "get on with the story."

Patch gave my waist a soft squeeze before he reluctantly let go, his arm falling heavily to his side. I had the feeling he thought I would need space when hearing this. I took a deep breath and promised myself I would not over react. "All right, all right. So, after Luke found me with Elizabeth, he thought the only thing he could do was tell the Arch Angels." There was a count of silence then, I realised that these Arch Angels must mean serious business. "A source informed me that though the Arch Angels disapproved of my...relationship, they couldn't really do anything about it. As far as they knew she wasn't aware of what I was or where I came from, and anyway. I was a fallen angel. Not their problem."

I risked a glance at Patch; he was staring mutinously ahead. "So...?"

"So I grew lazy. I would forget to erase her mind after she'd seen my scars, left from when they- my wings..." he raked a hand through his hair. "And one day, I just grew tired. Why should I have to hide? And anyway, what had I got to lose? If she freaked out and started screaming, I would just erase that from her mind. So...I told her. Well more she figured it out, and I confirmed it. She- she..." Raw pain that had been buried for years bubbled up to the surface, a sort of pain that I would have to live a lot longer to even grasp the understanding of. It _hurt_ to see it, grief and anger and misery all crammed together, replacing hope that once so fragilely lingered. Patch gave a ragged gasp and turned his face sharply away, his fists clenched.

I kept silent, unsure whether to go and comfort him or keep my distance and let him catch himself. I chose the latter and bit my lip. Suddenly Patch whirled around, his face contorted in old pain that still burnt. "She was horrified! No- not horrified..._repulsed._ She said she could not believe she made love to a devil. She screamed as one who was being beaten to death, untangling herself from the rocking chair and staggering to the door. I tried to stop her, to explain the danger. She _recoiled_ when I tried to reach out to her. And that did it. Her loathing toward me was plain on her lovely face, and it almost destroyed me. Why should I try to keep her when I knew she hated me? I tried to channel my pain into anger. I'm a fallen angel! I have no heart! But why, then, did it feel like it was on fire?" Patch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"So, that's when you killed her?" My voice faltered on the word.

Patch's black orbs flashed open, keeping me in their icy clutch. "No. Not then." He gave a long, drawn out sigh and kicked a stone viciously across the road. "_They_ found out. They'd been keeping a close eye on us, and predicted that she would run to town screaming her discoveries to anyone who would listen. So, of course, they couldn't have _more_ humans knowing the truth. Thus, they had no choice but hunt her down."

Patch heard my intake of breath, but he continued on, relentless. "What would you do?" He turned to face me, his expression desperate, "Would you let a monster steal your lovers life, to brutally rip her threads of mortality? Or would you extinguish her life in peace, out of...love? To save her from the beast they sent out. If she had taken one look at the claws," he shuddered, and then clenched his jaw. "I cornered her near the gates of the town, reaching into her mind to settle a deep mist of calm there. I stroked her face and murmured soothing, meaningless words. In her trance I was able to tow her towards the cover of trees that lead to the forest.

"It was a summer's night, but the air had turned cool with the night. Her small, warm hand was curled around my fingers, and her scent of flowers was marred with the stench of fear mingled with sweat. I stopped once we had gotten deep into the forest, where the lights of the town were no longer visible. Wrapping my arms around her, I was able to feel her against me once more; warm, soft. She wound her arms around my waist, resting her forehead on my chest. We stayed there like that for a while. Looking over her head, I saw the shadow of Luke standing close by. His eyes were glowing with poorly concealed grief; it pained him to see her with me. But I was too selfish to spare his feelings . I knew he realised Elizabeth was in danger, and as her Guardian Angel, he must protect her. I managed to convey to him that I would take care of her; he knew death was coming for her, but as a Guardian Angel he wasn't aware of what the danger was. So he couldn't see that it was the Arch Angels pet, or I going after her. He went to survey the area, snooping out any danger. He truly was a great man. Angel. Whatever."

Patch's hand snaked out to capture mine, squeezing it gently. He took a great shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. "I held her closer still, knowing the time had come. Whispering in her ear, '_I'm so sorry,' _I reached up and swiftly, painlessly, snapped her neck. She went limp in my arms. Elizabeth was...gone."

I let out a breath, not knowing how long I had been holding it. It was an act out of kindness. Not cold blooded at all. For a fallen angel, Patch was so...nice.

"Nice," Patch repeated, narrowing his eyes at me. "Ever say that out loud and I'll show you how 'nice' I can be." The threat was deep in his words, and light in his eyes.

I gave a small, brief smile, searching through the dark abyss that was his eyes. "So she was...dead."

Patch blinked, then glanced far to the distant copse of trees. "Yes. I lay her down on the soft moss, a comfortable place to rest her until the Angel of Death, Dabria, came for her. I didn't really want to partake to any conversations with Dabria, or Luke. I tried to comfort myself in the fact that I had saved her from a terrible death, but the comfort was only skin deep. I had to run, or give in to the remorse that was literally crushing me." Cracking his knuckles, Patch gave a mirthless laugh. "So now you know. That's what happened to Elizabeth, and what happened to make Luke want me to cease existing. And why I had to kill her."

I took his hand again, using my other hand to tilt his chin so I could meet his eyes. "You are not a cold blooded murderer. I believe that."

Patch stared at me for a moment, then, it seemed, realisation sunk in. His dark eyes widened and he gave a great, shuddering gasp, as if something had snapped inside him. Then he snatched me up into a fierce bear hug, arms bruising around my middle. My breath _whooshed_ out of my lungs, and my feet left the ground. When I managed to pull my arms free, I curled them around his shoulders, holding him with all the strength I possessed. One of his hands skimmed up my spine to rest in my hair, knotting the strands around his fingers and using that to angle my face towards his. There he melded his lips to mine, the relief and desperation thick on his mouth. As were stayed linked by the lips, I traced the sharp line that was his jaw, resting my palms on the sides of his neck.

When I pulled away to gasp for breath, Patch moved his lips to my neck, nipping gently at the thin, sensitive skin below my ears. My knees wobbled; it felt like the bones had turned to jelly. _I am literally going weak at the knees_, I thought in wonder, then cursed inwardly at the risk that Patch may have heard that last remark. His other arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer to him and taking most of my weight. Guess he did hear me. _Damn._ I could feel his grin at my throat, and he brought his face up to mine again, meeting my lips with a fiercer yearning. His teeth bit my lip softly, producing a low jolt just behind my abdomen. Suddenly Patch went rigid, pulling away from me and placing his hands on my shoulders. He glanced with murderous rage over my head.

Snapping my head around, panic fluttered in my chest as I envisioned Luke standing in the middle of the dusty highway, holding a gleaming sword at his side. Don't ask why he would hold a sword, in my mind he would be. Relief surged through me when I saw Rixon standing sheepishly to the side of the road, trying unsuccessfully to conceal a grin. He was wearing dark jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, his blue-black hair still damp. "Sorry to interrupt, seeing as you both were so..." he waved his hands in the air, searching for the right word to use. Before he could finish Patch stepped around me and stalked towards Rixon, anger tight in his shoulders. Rixon grinned widely, and held his hands up in defence. "Mate, I think you should hear this," though his grin remained intact, his words were grave. As were his eyes. The two were murmuring furiously, and my annoyance steadily climbed as the seconds ticked. It didn't help that the two kept glancing over at me.

"OK," I snapped, slipping on the mud as I strode over to them, holding my head high, "what's going on?"

Patch turned his blazing eyes onto me, deep anger still simmering. "It's _him._"

"What? What has he done?"

At the look that past through his eyes, my blood ran cold.

"You might want to get back to Coldwater."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Why? What has he done? I swear to – "

"We have to go, Elle. Now," Patch turned sharply back towards the hotel, taking measured, angry strides. I stared after him, mouth open. After a moment I closed it with a snap and followed after him. Rixon fell into step beside me.

"Try not to worry too much, love," he murmured to me, gently nudging my arm. I turned the full force of my glare onto him. The glare had the same force as a physical blow, causing him to flinch somewhat and blink.

"Rixon, what happened? What has he done?" I stared into the depths of his eyes unyieldingly. He shook his head and gave me a small, sad smile.

"Sorry love, but Patch doesn't want me to scare you. Oh shit, I mean– "

"Scare me? It's that awful? What the hell? Rixon, I know this is bad. So just spill, what is it?" Patch was almost at the Jeep by now, much too far to be in hearing distance. One glance at Rixon's tight lipped expression told me he would not respond to force. So I did something I knew I would be ashamed of 'til the day I die. I bit my lip and stared up at Rixon beseechingly, batting my eyes. They begun to burn with bogus tears. "Please, _please_ Rixon. I need to know what I'm about to walk into. Don't leave me in the dark. I know you're better than that." Considering I had just met him today, that last comment was laying it on a bit thick.

Yet, miraculously, he fell for it. His eyebrows pulled up at the corners and he pursed his lips. "All right, but please: stay calm. And if Patch runs at me with his claws out, do me a favour and throw a rock at his head."

I nodded in agreement, lacing my hands together.

"Lucian has your parents."

I stared at Rixon, shock making me freeze. Then I sucked in a sharp breath. "_What?"_

He hastily stepped in front of me, blocking my view of Patch, and Patch's view of me. "Now calm down, Elle. It's under control," he glanced over his shoulder, clearly regretting letting the fact slip.

"Calm down? I will not calm down! Luke has my parents. _What the fu_ – "

"What's the hold up?" Patch called, stalking towards us, clearly annoyed. I tried to compose myself, blinking back any tears that dared escape.

"Nothing," I snapped, tension making me lash out.

Big mistake.

In a second Patch had Rixon pinned against the floor, arm twisted around behind his back. Patch sat on top of him. "Oof, Jesus Christ, Patch! Gerrof me!" Rixon writhed under the other, trying to turn him over. Patch's fury was no match.

"I thought we agreed not to say anything?" Patch's voice was steel. "What happened to protecting her? You can't resist a pretty face, can you?"

"Says you! Hate to break it to you, mate, but because of _your_ resisting, she knows all the bloody secrets of the bloody universe just about!" Rixon's voice was muffled against the ground. Suddenly I remembered Rixon's request.

"Patch, get off him," I raised my voice above their shouts. Neither took notice. I looked around for a large rock, but the ground was smooth and damp, not a rock nor stone nor pebble in view. And so the next best thing was me.

I threw myself at Patch, catching him around the shoulders. My momentum swayed him, but did little else. Wrapping my legs around his torso and arms, I managed to loosen some of him hold on Rixon. Patch stood up, arms pinned beneath me. "Get off me, Killer," he muttered, anger still ringing in his tone.

"Promise you'll calm down. I don't have _time_ for your stupid testosterone-filled macho crap. My parents are in danger, and I'll thank you," I shot him a dirty look, "for coming to me straight away when you found out my _family _are in jeopardy."

Patch grimaced.

"I didn't want you to over react, like you are now. This is easily handled," I felt Patch's arms move beneath me, elbows bent, his fingers digging into my side. "Now, I'm going to ask you nicely one more time. Get off me."

"Do you promise not to go all animal on us again?" I whispered in his ear, his dark hair close enough to tickle my cheek.

"It's in my nature, babe," Patch was grinning that rogue smile again, and then moved his fingers. I squealed in shock as his fingers caused sensations to ripple through my nerves. My hold on him loosened causing me to drop down and hit the floor.

"That's not fair," I pouted. Tickling? So first grade.

"Life never is. Come on, Killer," he held a hand down to me, his shadowy eyes intense. Meekly I grasped his hand and let him haul me back to my feet.

"Ah, jeez," sighed Rixon, from another world. He was scratching his head awkwardly, glaring at the floor. My cheeks slowly burnt.

"Ok, so let's go," I made to march to the Jeep, but Patch closed my elbow in a vice-like grip. I tugged, confused. "What?"

"We need a plan first. I am not letting you parade straight back to Coldwater, right into his trap," he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "That's exactly what he's expecting."

I was getting irritated at Patch and the 'worldly' tone that he was bestowing upon me. "Ok, genius," I shook his hand off my arm, and took a step closer to him. The motion would have been menacing if he wasn't almost a foot taller than me. "Seeing as you're so smart, what's the plan?"

"_You're _going to stay here – "

"Oh, _hell_ no!"

"- while me and Rixon go and take care of Lucian, Luke. Whatever you want to call him."

"I am _not_ staying here, twiddling my thumbs while my parents are in danger!"

"No one said anything about twiddling your thumbs,"

"Shut up," I spat, turning away in disgust. I was surprised at myself. Never was I so vehement or hot tempered. I guess the threat of death does that to people.

"Elle, love," Rixon reached up to put a hand on my shoulder, but I stepped out of reach. His hand fell short. "Patch is only looking out for you. Lucian is expecting you to turn up. If you do, it's like his game is falling into place. You get what I'm saying?"

I did, but I wasn't going to admit it. "Listen, I'm not saying I have to go in there and kick Luke's ass myself, but I have to be there. I'll stay in the car, even." My trembling fingers were crossed behind my back.

The two guys shared a look. Then, "Alright," Patch sighed. Rixon shot me a grin before jogging to the Jeep and starting the engine. Once more I set off to the car, but Patch stopped me. "Wait," he murmured. Closing his eyes, Patch drew me into him, wrapping his arms around me. I felt very small at that moment.

"You ok?" my voice was stifled by his dark t-shirt.

"Please, please be careful. I don't know what I would do if..." he gritted his teeth. "He's going to use you to get to me. You realise that?"

I wasn't stupid. I knew the risk. "Yeah," I whispered. Patch brought a hand down to stroke my cheek, curving it under my chin to tilt my face up.

"Elle," his eyes were wide, pleading. "Don't get killed. Ok?"

I laughed without humour. "I'll try."

We shared a feeling that required no words. His eyes were burning me, though it was not at all unpleasant. Just the opposite, in fact. His hands were circling my wrists, pulling them up and layng my hand against his cheek.

"Ready, Killer?"

"To face some psycho, fallen angel intent on murdering the guy I like who happens to be immortal, thus having to settle for me instead, all the while we are about to walk into his trap willingly where he's holding the people who raised me captive? Sure, let's kick some angel butt."

Patch bit his lip, obviously battling with the humour threatening to curve his mouth upwards. "You always have a way with words, don't you?" he chuckled darkly, then picked up my hand. "Oh, and another thing I'm curious about,"

"What's that?" I darted a look at his face. It was on the verge of that glorious grin again.

"You 'like' me, huh?"

Groaning, I snatched my hand free and stomped away from him, embarrassed. He followed me, laughing .

* * *

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Rixon and Patch were conversing at the front of the Jeep, their murmurs too quiet for me to understand. I was curled up on the back seat, an itchy woollen blanket wrapped around me. I stared out the windows, not seeing anything. Instead I was lost in thought, thinking about all the strange incidents that had occurred since I moved to Coldwater.

"Oh," I said out loud, sitting up straight. "_Idiot._"

"Elle?" Patch slid his eyes to me, his feet propped on the dashboard. Rixon was glaring out through the rain, struggling to read the street signs through the watery haze.

"I should have _known_, ugh," I hit the heel of my palm to my forehead again and again. Patch reached over the seat to snare my wrist, holding me.

"Known what? Care to share your discoveries to the world?"

"When Luke showed up at my house this morning, did I even stop to think how could he have known where I lived? I only met him yesterday! What an idiot, I didn't even think," I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, trying to keep the panic away. There was a scuffle and a thump, and when I opened my eyes Patch was seated beside me, one arm tight around my shoulders, the other hand still holding my wrist.

"Killer, it wouldn't have made a difference either way,"

"He used the sympathy vote on me. Man, I feel so played," I spat, disgusted. "He turns up with bruises and cuts and makes me think he's the victim. I am such a freaking _girl_," I hid my face in Patch's shoulder, revelling in his warmth.

"Uh...that's partly my fault," Patch's guilty tone made me look up.

"What do you mean?"

"When I saw him with you at lunch yesterday, I swear I thought I was hallucinating. I realised in a second what he was trying to do. I never felt so angry and...afraid before.

"So, well, after a few drinks at Bo's Arcade it seemed like a good idea to go after him by myself. I should have known I wouldn't be able to kill him myself; it would take more than one fallen angel to slay one other fallen angel. And you know the weird thing? Only fallen angels can kill fallen angels. No one else can, don't ask me how that works. Maybe because we're _equals_," Patch's lip curled at the word.

"He was weak, new and injured. His wings were broken and brittle, falling out. He wasn't ready for me. I got him good, but not good enough. The last thing I remember is leaving him unconscious on the floor and stumbling out of there before I passed out. Somehow I managed to get home. And then...well I was pretty hung over. I should have realised his ultimate revenge would be to turn what I did to him into an advantage for him in his twisted game. _I _should have known."

I stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. I rested a hand on his arm and shook my head. "It wouldn't have made a difference either way," I echoed his earlier words.

"I think it would have," he grumbled.

"Really, it was all heading here anyway," it felt odd for me to have to comfort him in the circumstances, but I had to protect Patch from himself.

Patch's lips twitched. "You don't need to protect me from myself, you need to protect this," he withdrew his arm from around my shoulders to wrap his fingers in my hair, bringing me closer. He pressed his lips to mine, the suppleness of his lips and the slight stubble on his chin creating the perfect friction.

"I can do both," I argued breathlessly when we broke apart. His midnight eyes were a fiery night, warming me to my toes. I almost forgot Rixon.

"Teenagers," he shook his head, amused.

_Oops,_ I cringed.

_Don't worry, Killer. He's just teasing._ Patch sent a wink my way.

"Can I ask a question?" I asked Patch, falling into him as we rounded a sharp corner. I tried to pull myself upright but Patch clamped an arm tight around me, keeping me to his side. I struggled in futile for a moment before realising I was actually content sitting like this.

"You just did," he pointed out, grinning into my hair.

I dropped my hand in a playful slap onto his chest, otherwise ignoring him. "What happened during the fight? Did...did you turn into a werewolf? Coz I swear I saw a monster. And- and I...I went blind! What happened there? It was so scary," I trailed off as the terrifying memories bombarded my mind, making me flinch in Patch's arms.

His arms tightened around me automatically as my recollections hit him. "You were right about seeing a monster, but it was no werewolf or vampire. It was just Luke using his mind tricks to gain the lead. He made you think that a sort of demon was coming at you. Because fear, you see, makes the mind go a little out of whack. It forces the barriers your mind puts up to protect itself disappear. That was his aim; to make you so scared he could take over your mind altogether.

"When I got there he was just about to pounce; I could _feel _the malice from the driveway. As i neared the door I tried to use surprise to get a leg-up; it worked before. I kicked the door open, but I didn't realise you were so close. Sorry about that," he added, his voice soft.

"Don't be, you saved my life."

"When I saw you on the floor, hot anger turned the whole world red. I had never been so furious, and I took all the force of it and threw it at Lucian. We were pretty evenly matched, but I kept worrying about you, praying you wouldn't get in the way. That kind of distracted me a bit, so it was a lot harder to knock him out. You were just sitting there behind the table, staring. I didn't want you to see me that way, so violent, a monster.

"I told you to get out when I saw the doorway was free, and you almost made it. But Lucian wasn't going to give in that easy. He forced you to think you couldn't see anything, so you couldn't escape. You screamed out, and I froze in dread. He got me, landing a punch to the side of my head. Everything went dark, and I was trapped inside a murky world of pain.

"I don't know how long I was down for, but all I was aware of was you. I tried to reach you, reach into your mind. I heard your plea for help, so afraid, so desperate. That's what broke me from the darkness. I opened my eyes to see he had backed you against the wall; you were completely under his control.

"I pushed off the ground and grabbed him by the neck, tearing him away from you and yanking you away, throwing you to the floor . Then I turned on Lucian and really started tearing into him."

"Hey," I interrupted, a light bulb going on beside my head. "Is that why there were small flashes when I could see? Because you were beating the crap out of him and he couldn't keep it up?"

"Keep it up? That's what she said," Patch flashed a dark grin at me. I flushed and sighed impatiently.

"Answer the question, will you?" Once again I tried to pull away from him, but he only shifted his hold on me so that my legs were draped over his lap and his arms were locked around my waist. As if he was cradling me.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Killer. Actually, it makes a lot of sense. So anyway, back to the ass kicking part. As I was kicking his ass, I saw you from the corner of my eye crawling to the door. I just needed one last shot to knock him out, so then I could get to you. When his eyes slid to you, that's what finally did it. I hauled him up and threw his head into the solid bookcase. He was, at last, still."

As he finished, I stayed quiet, as always in awe at his story. Only the purr of the engine and the pelting rain that echoed around the Jeep could be heard. I looked up at Patch, who was so close that my eyelashes brushed against his chin.

"Mate," Rixon shook his head slowly, "sounds bloody intense."

"Mm," Patch pressed his lips to my forehead. "You could say that."

"Well, what number is it then?"

Patch and I both went rigid, then straightened up. The Jeep was rolling along the road, familiar houses shadowing us on both sides. We were on my street.

Oh, no.

"Stop. Rixon, stop _right now!_"

* * *

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

The Jeep screeched to a stop, tires squealing against the road. I was thrown forward, smacking into the front seat before Patch yanked me towards him. His black boots were braced against the back of the front seat. Patch pushed me down below the windows as he peered through the windscreen. "Stay here," he murmured almost inaudibly to me, nodding to Rixon to stay in the car. Then he swiftly opened the door, letting in a sharp blast of wintry air before slamming it shut. I slowly kneeled upright, inching up to take a peek at the scene taking place. In the middle of the road stood a tall, shady figure, his stance casual, expectant. The street lights were just beginning to burn in the oncoming twilight; the sun sinking below the horizon, being chased away by the night.

Patch was stalking towards the shadowed form, coming to a stop a fair distance away. He crossed his arms and said something, to which the other replied with a shrug. Then the dark shape stepped into the light and Luke gave a feral grin, staring straight at me.

Shock like icy water radiated from my chest and I flung myself to the ground. Rixon swore and straightened up, his knuckles cracking. I crouched, trembling, on the dusty floor, muscles tensed, ready for flight. All I could hear was Rixon's steady stream of curses, muttered under his breath.

Then the pain began.

It started as an insistent throbbing behind my eyes, growing sharper and spreading through to my temples, pressing down on my skull. I clutched my head, closing my eyes and breathing heavily.

"Elle?" Rixon paused and snuck a look at me. His voice was edged with concern. "What's wrong?"

"My head," I panted, gasping as the pain flared, sharp knives piercing my skull. "It feels...like...it's gonna _explode." _My voice rose to a shriek of agony. It was as if a thick blanket of wool was wrapped around my head, mouth and nose included, smothering me. The darkness was rushing forward, eager in its greed to take me. Air was pressing down on me, yet I couldn't take a breath. I clawed in front of me blindly, desperately seeking the door handle. I needed fresh air, open space. The door swung open and I collapsed forward, hitting the ground hard. I lay a crumpled heap at the foot of the Jeep, convulsing in the torture. I heard my name shouted in panic, and somehow saw through the dark haze clouding my vision to see Patch round on Luke furiously, an animal snarl escaping him before he launched himself at Luke.

Hands shook me frantically, a voice calling from behind the pain. I recognised the Irish inflection and squinted up at Rixon. "Elle, love, it's not real! The pain isn't real- listen to me," His shaggy hair was falling into his eyes, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his neck and collarbone.

I whimpered, unable to form words. This pain was so real I couldn't work around it. There was no way it was a mind game. I tried to envisage a brick wall stopping Luke's thought from flowing into my mind. The pain faltered slightly, and I huffed in surprise. My lapse in concentration caused the wall to crumble, and the pain came back doubled in intensity. I screamed and tore at my hair, trying to hold my head together. Rixon's cool hands seized my wrists and pulled my curled hands away from my hair, murmuring constantly, "It's not real, listen to me, find his voice and shut it out."

Shadows danced at the edge of my vision; shadows with red glowing eyes that flickered like flames. I felt my eyes widen, and I cringed further into the ground, my shoulder blades grounding painfully into the concrete.

_Elle, there's no monsters. He's making you see this._

His whispers were soft in my mind, a temporary reprieve from the pain. Patch.

_Just listen to my voice. Block everything else out._

_But it's so hard, _I argued, tears leaking from my eyes, _it hurts so much._

_Find his voice, push it out. You're strong, Killer._

I lay there; trembling violently, with Rixon crouched over me. I closed my aching eyes and imagined my mind a box, one I could upturn and sweep out the contents. I set aside my childhood memories, tucked my emotions carefully away. Patch was there, his words reassuring, his presence strong. I kept him close to me as I examined the last thing that lurked in the corner of the box. It was a black, swirling mist that crept up the walls, staining the pure white fence of the box, tainting it with evil as it gradually consumed the box.

_No,_ I thought fiercely, teeth piercing my bottom lip as I fought through the pain. I reached into the box and batted the swirling mist away. It clung to the walls, unrelenting and obstinate. I plunged both hands into the icy vapour, attempting to pull it out. I couldn't get a hold of it at first, for it was merely a black haze, not solid, not something I could grab on to. But slowly, little by little, the dark webs of shadows unstuck from the walls, and as that happened, the agonising pain faded slowly but surely. The churning darkness I held in my hands was furious, trying to crawl up my arms. I shook my hand frantically, winding it up over my shoulder and flinging my arm forward as hard as I could. The dark mist detached from my hands and disappeared into the distance. The pain vanished.

I opened my eyes warily, meeting the anxious blue of Rixon's. "Elle, are you alright?" His eyes took in everything. I nodded slowly, aware that I was drenched in a cold sweat, my shirt clinging to my damp back, my hair stuck to my neck and temples. I heard the scuffling of a fight and a blast of realisation hit me: Patch and Luke.

I struggled to sit upright, Rixon putting an arm around my back to support me. My head swam dizzily and I swayed slightly. Taking a deep breath, I clasped a hand to Rixon's shoulder and hauled myself upright, stumbling into the car door as I stood up. Patch and Luke were on the ground, rolling each other over furiously, each trying to gain the lead. Currently Patch had Luke pinned, his fists laying into Luke's flesh, the dull pounding echoing in my ears.

Luke threw an arm up, blocking one of Patch's blows. Patch growled and seized Luke's arm, twisting it around. Luke kicked upwards, knocking Patch aside, gasping. Then Luke flew at me.

Despite having Rixon standing in front of me, I still screamed, backing into the Jeep's door in panic. Rixon braced himself as if a tidal wave was coming, feet apart, shoulders tense. I shadowed his stance, teeth clenched.

And then Luke just...disappeared.

The three of us paused, motionless in surprise. Then, awkwardly straightening up, I glanced around furtively; convinced he was ready to fly out at us. Nothing greeted us but the wind, skittering leaves across the road with a sinister slither, carrying a very faint saline taste from the coast. The winds were building steadily.

"Where did he go?" I called out to Patch, who was getting to his feet, wincing.

"No idea. Jesus, the dick kicked me right in the b- "

"What's he playing at?" Rixon interrupted, pacing forward, toward Patch. "Did you see what he was doing to Elle?"

"Yeah," Patch's face went hard, his eyes turning flat black. "I did."

I was still leaning against the Jeep door when a dark feeling of foreboding swept over me. Alarmed, I looked to my right into the shadowy copse of trees. The bushes rustled, as if they were taunting me. I'm fairly sure I narrowed my eyes at them, which was ridiculous.

"_Elle,_" Patch bellowed, one arm reaching out just as the car door behind me blasted outwards, flying outwards so hard my feet lost their footing and skimmed the surface of the road as I was pushed forward. My neck cracked backwards at the force, smacking my head into the glass window.

Nothing could catch me as I fell into nothingness, not even the angel's arms.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Where am I?

The first thing I made sense of as I came to was the gentle wind that toyed with my hair. The breeze was warm and teasing, nothing like the frigid winds that rolled through Coldwater. The next thing I became aware of was the rushing, crashing sounds of waves hitting the shore.

_Wait,_ I thought, wariness stirring up inside me. _I'm at the beach?_

Opening my eyes was like peeling a sticker from a shiny, expensive table top; difficult and slightly panic causing. As I opened them a blinding light dazzled me, causing me to scrunch my eyes automatically. I moved my face away from the light, but that slight movement caused a sharp twang of pain to shoot through my head. I winced, putting a hand to my skull. When I opened my eyes again, my jaw dropped, a surprised hiss escaping me. The pain in my head was forgotten.

I was lying on the edge of a cliff, one that was overlooking the ocean where the sinking sun was peeking out over the horizon with its proud golden hues. I clutched at the scraggly grass under my fingers, breathing heavily.

_This isn't right,_ I whispered silently to myself. _I was at home, not here._

I tried to stand up, but as I did so a roaring sounded in my ears, causing the world to tilt wildly. The edge of the cliff came dangerously close until arms closed around me, pulling me to safety. I sighed with relief, leaning into the hard arms that held me. "Patch," I said gratefully, closing my eyes from the blazing sun, "thank you." I nestled in close, inhaling deeply. Then I frowned.

The scent I linked with Patch was the damp earth, spearmint chewing gum and the faint whiff of second hand smoke. This was nothing like that. This scent was blood and soap and bitter traces of evil. Yeah, I know. How can evil have a smell? Well let me tell you, evil smells of gun fire, death.

I paused and, with growing trepidation, I looked up. Instead of the midnight fire of his eyes, I got the royal sapphires glittering dangerously down at me. In the place of his tousled black hair was the deep brown that swept across his brow. This wasn't my Patch.

"Luke," I gasped, twisting out of his grip and stumbling back. He just watched me, lips twitching. "What have you done? Where am I?" I shouted at him, brushing my hair away from my eyes impatiently.

"Same place you were before, Elle," he said, amused.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

Luke began to take slow, deliberate steps toward me. I stood my ground and crossed my arms, glaring at him mutinously. He shook his head in delight at my tone and glanced up at me through his lashes. The deep navy of his eyes began to glow. "You're still lying unconscious on the wet road back in Coldwater, with Patch and his leprechaun huddled over you, trying to find a way to staunch the bleeding." His lip curled with dark pleasure.

"B-bleeding?" I touched a hand to the back of my head, but it came away unblemished. The only thing I could tell was wrong with me was the steady, dull throb of pain that encompassed my whole skull.

"Well, not here, seeing as you're only in your mind. In the real world you're not as coherent."

I balled my fists and gnashed my teeth together. Then I processed the rest of his words. "Wait, _what?"_

He sighed as if my intelligence was wearing him thin. There was still the twisted amusement in his eyes. "Come on, use your brain. When was the last time you've seen a place like this? How can it make sense that you're here?"

I gawked at him, the trickle of an answer reacting to his words.

"Yes, I knew there was someone home. I can see that you know, just by looking at your eyes you understand that under your pretty curls is the two of us, having this very conversation."

I chewed my lip, letting this idea run through my mind. "That's not exactly the clearest explanation."

"Hmm," he mused, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ok, this isn't really happening, but it is. I'm inside your mind. Your corporal form is still knocked out in Coldwater, but I managed to get inside the boundaries you rebuilt around your precious mind. So now, this is my game."

"What are you doing in my head? Get out!" A swirl of unease curled in my stomach.

"This is the only way I could talk to you. Will you walk with me?" He held his hand out and smiled, the sky behind him a fiery orange. I ignored his hand and turned away, stalking off away from the cliff and the picturesque sunset.

I could practically feel the smugness exuding from his person. "Elle, I offered you my hand for a reason," he called, his tone somewhat expectant. It was then the pain in my head flared up and the ground seemed unsteady under my feet. I faltered, lurching off to the side and tripping over my own feet. It was a good thing the ground was so soft, so that the impact on my hip and shoulders didn't hurt too much. The only dilemma was the movement caused my head to ache. I grimaced into the lush grass as I felt Luke's hands turn me over, one gripping my hand while the other wound around my waist, hoisting me up.

"Don't touch me," I growled, shaking him off. He shrugged and took a step away. My palm twitched, itching to wipe that triumphant smirk off his face.

"You turn a beautiful shade of red when you're angry," he observed. I took a deep breath to calm myself before taking a cautious step forward.

"You wanted to talk to me, so talk. And make it quick, I want to get back to reality."

"Fine, talking time. You know what I want?"

"To kill me."

He looked at me, in his eyes burnt a mock sadness, one that I could easily see through. "I really don't want too, but in future you should really choose better company."

"Better company?" I scoffed, "What, like you? No thanks."

A flash of anger crossed his features before he could compose himself. "Well, if you had found a normal human to have relations with, rather than a fallen angel, you might not be in this mess."

I didn't bother to reply, instead coming to a standstill, staring open mouthed at what stood before me. A thick, blossoming hedge stood taller than I did, a solid wall stretching out to as far as I could see in both directions. Further on was a break in the leafy wall, one that opened up into a green, narrow corridor. I couldn't see beyond two metres with the gloomy darkness. The whole place emitted a cold, mystifying sense, one that made me shiver. It was a maze.

I glanced over my shoulder, back to the orange sunset that turned the ocean to gold. I bit my lip, longing to retreat back into the light; I didn't want to venture out into this maze. But Luke gestured forward, his smile cunning. I ran a hand down my face, frustrated. I just wanted to get back to the real world, but obviously Luke wasn't going to let me go before he could talk.

Stepping into the maze was like treading forward into icy water. I shivered and hugged myself, shooting Luke a look at his apparent ease within the labyrinth. "I understand that Patch has already told you his side of the story," Luke began, his voice echoing oddly.

"Patch told me _the_ story. He didn't twist it, he was honest. He doesn't play games like you," I snapped, cracking my knuckles anxiously.

"Oh, he's playing the biggest game here. Trust me," Luke said, leading me around a corner where identical hedges loomed above me. The scent of damp soil and foliage overwhelmed me, and the ground was spongy under my feet from the moss.

"Trust you? Please," I rolled my eyes skyward. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of Patch's hoodie, turning my face so I could take a whiff of his scent, the perfume of him calming my racing pulse.

We came to a halt as the passage way we had been following split into three directions. I hesitated, glancing at each new path, unsure.

Luke nudged me. "It's your call. Which path appeals to you most? How about the dark, twisting route?"

_That would be Luke,_ I thought to myself, edging away from the path on my right.

"Or perhaps you're more of a strong, safe-yet-seems-dangerous -path kind of girl. For which you should know is a dead end."

_Patch._

And of course; the straight ahead, safest option. Where the easiest option may leave you alive, but wishing you weren't."

"What do you mean by that?" I said, staring into the centre passage way.

"You would break his heart," Luke said, staring at me intently.

"How is that the easiest option?" My own heart began to thump, screaming at my brain to block out his words.

"Well, let's see," he put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "You would demonstrate that you are of no use to me, meaning I probably wouldn't kill you. You would destroy Patch beyond repair; for such a bad boy, his heart is as fragile as a spider's web. So it should be easy for you tear it apart. I would leave your darling Patch alone. I'm not cruel," he saw the look on my face. "I mean, I'm not completely heartless," he amended.

"No, but you're close," I muttered. Then, with bold resolve, I took toward the left route, to Patch. It didn't matter if Luke had said it only led to a dead end. I didn't believe it would lead to nowhere, and even if it did. It was only a hedge, I am pretty sure I could cut through it easily enough.

Luke grabbed my wrist roughly, dragging me back. "You're making the wrong choice," he hissed, nails digging into my skin, suddenly livid.

"Let me go!" I shook my wrist, trying to free myself. "You said it was my choice! That I could go down any path-hey!" I yelped in surprise when Luke grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

"He destroyed me! His selfish actions almost killed me! How do you think it feels, watching the most important person of your existence, the love of your eternal life being with your best friend? It would suck, you'd think? If only it was that simple, that tender. Imagine your eyes burned with tears, burned like the tears you held in were liquid fire. That your skin crawled when he touched her and you heart was like a dead weight in your chest. Imagine that."

I didn't speak, in fear of enraging him further. He still held my shoulders in a vice grip, his face too close to mine. He clenched his jaw, visibly trying to calm himself. His sapphire eyes bore into me, a veil of darkness shadowing the usual vibrant blue.

"Your Patch killed her- killed the one spark of life in my lonely existence. Sure, back then I had Patch; he was my closest friend, almost like a brother to me. But even _he _couldn't fill that void that she could just by living. And when he murdered her, it was two blows to the heart. She was dead, and I had failed my duty as a Guardian Angel," his lip curled to bare his teeth in a snarl.

"He did it to protect her!" I countered, ducking out of his hold. He was too caught up in his recollections to stop me, and he spluttered for a response. I used his lack of speech to get a word in. "When she found out about what he was, she freaked out! Majorly, she was disgusted by him and ran to the town, ready to tell anyone and everyone what she'd discovered, she was so scared. He was cut too, because he knew she hated him, that she was repulsed by what he was. The Arch Angels found out that she was aware of their secrets so they sent out some kind of monster to silence her! Patch found out they was going to kill her, so he had to find her. When he found her he took her to the forest and made her calm and serene, and then quickly, painlessly broke her neck. Because he didn't want her to die at the hands of the Arch angels, or at the claws of the hunter. He did it to protect her, and it's haunted him forever since."

I was panting by the end of this, my face flushed. Luke stared at me, his gaze lost and for the first time unsure. "Protect her?" he murmured, brow creasing, disbelief plain on his face.

"Yeah," despite everything, my heart still ached for his pain. This news shocked him, that's for sure. All his purpose and plans were shaken, as was his confidence.

"It wouldn't have happened if he hadn't pursued her in the first place."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Obviously you need to ponder this a little more. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to reality," and with that, I tore off down the left path, ignoring the growing pain in my head. I gasped in agony, the world swirling around me, the ground rushing forward to meet me before bouncing away. The leaves around me began to blur, turning darker until I was running into darkness.

The darkness began to lighten as harsh reality took its place.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

The voices called to me, the sound faint and distant. Cool hands brushed against my neck, my face. Slowly, the rest of the world came back to me. The ground was damp and cold, seeping into my clothes and leeching the heat from my body. My eyes fluttered, before opening to the deep blue of the night sky, an endless stretch of dark velvet scattered with hundreds of tiny diamonds twinkling forlornly down at the earth. I tried to sit upright, moving my head, but a sharp pain caused everything to go blurry and I hunched over, gagging.

"Whoa, careful," said a voice. "Don't try to get up."

Cautiously I raised a hand, guiding it to the back of my head. It came away slick, powdered with dark red blood. My breathing hitched up as the memory of what had just happened came back to me. "Oh!" I gasped, head reeling.

"Elle, its ok, calm down." Patch tried to sound soothing, but I could hear the frantic undertone. "Rixon," he muttered, "Scope out the area, will you? We don't want him sneaking up on us again."

Rixon must have nodded, because I didn't hear a reply. Soon it was just Patch and I.

"What happened?" I mumbled, reaching blindly for his hand. His face came into view, streaked with dirt and sweat, his dark eyes bright.

"You were leaning against the car door and Luke must've gotten through the passenger side. He opened the door you were leaning on and rammed it forward. Your body was pushed forward but your head was a little late in responding, so it smashed into the window." His hand squeezed mine as my heart began to pound.

"Is- is it bad?" I whispered timidly. Patch swallowed, and then shifted the full force of his gaze onto me. My fingertips warmed slightly at his stare.

"Head wounds always bleed more than other injuries, but you may have a concussion. Rixon and I have taken all the glass out- there wasn't much. But I'm going to have to get you to a hospital, in case you need stitches."

I shuddered. I hated hospitals. "No, I'm sure I'll be fine." Again I struggled to sit up, the sharp pain that flared up before returned, yet much duller. I blinked through the starbursts that popped behind my lids and held onto Patch's wide shoulders.

"Elle, no," he said reprovingly, sliding a hand up to my neck, supporting my head like a newborn. He held me close to his body, trying to lie me back onto the ground. I made a noise of protest and dug my nails into his shoulders.

"No, about Luke, I don't think..."my words came out unclear. I tried to tell Patch that Luke may have changed his plans, but was interrupted by a shout.

"Something's closing in fast! And it's not Lucian," Rison came bursting in through the trees, his sneakers slapping against the road. Each step made me flinch.

"Oh, no," Patch breathed, his jaw dropping, eyes far away. He sat me against the giant tyre of the Jeep and stood over me, his hands clenched, feet apart. Rixon whistled, and came to stand by Patch.

"They finally decided to get involved," Rixon spat. "Mate, we need to get her out of here."

"There's no time," Patch hissed. "It'll just chase us."

I backed up against the tyre as a swooping noise, similar to that of a helicopter, suddenly met my ears, the low pitch rattling my bones. The air shivered around us, the trees that shielded the nearby forest bowed toward us under pressure. Rixon swore under his breath.

"What is it?" I hissed hysterically, their panic igniting my own.

Patch released his breath in one angry exhalation. "Remember the story of Elizabeth?"

How could I forget? "Yes."

"And do you recall how the Arch Angels found out about how she knew everything, and they sent out a...hunter to silence her?"

My blood turned icy through my veins, my heart skipped a beat, then ran double time.

"You're kidding me."

"If only," he curled his fists. "If only."

A wave of cold air hit us like a brick wall, slamming me against the side of the truck. Patch and Rixon staggered backwards into me. My head reeled at the impact. I slid down off the wall of the jeep and just managed to catch myself. I slowly raised my eyes to what stood before us.

A huge misshapen figure stood in the light of the moon, its glinting eyes stood at least eight feet high, glittering above slavering, pointed fangs. It was black, with wide, jagged wings protruding from its back, its two back legs strong like a lion's, the two front legs scaly. The talons gleamed silver, as if they were tipped with metal.

I almost fainted right there and then.

Instead of giving into the darkness that edged my vision, I dug my nails into the palm of my hands, keeping myself awake. Patch was breathing heavily, torn between launching himself at the monster and staying back to protect me.

"This is bad," I trembled. "This is _so _bad."

"Shh," Rixon hissed out of the corner of his mouth. The beast just continued to survey us, its large head cocked to one side. Absolute stillness swept over the scene; the trees seemed to stop swaying, the leaves lay unmoving.

_What's it waiting for?_ I thought to myself, the anticipation killing me.

_It's checking with its master to make sure we're the right ones, _Patch whispered silently.

_And then what? _I was almost too afraid to ask. There was a pause.

_If we are still alive in about ten seconds then they must have made a mistake. _Patch's tone told that he clearly did not consider this a possible outcome.

_So that's it?_ A whimper escaped my lips. _This is goodbye?_

_No, not yet._

The creatures eyes suddenly flared up, a horrid roar erupting from its yawning mouth. I clapped both hands to my ears and winced at the searing pain that made. It reared up onto its hind legs, claws flailing wildly. I couldn't help it, I screamed in terror. Patch made a blindingly fast move toward the creature's belly, a flash of silver scattering moonlight. I was too caught up in the terror to wonder how he had gotten the dagger. Rixon immediately pulled me to the ground and shoved me under the jeep.

"If it ends bad," Rixon panted, "and it's not looking at you; run. Run like hell was chasing!"

My breath was coming in ragged gasps. "Ok."

We shared a brief, desperate look. Then he was gone, disappearing into the pandemonium. Laying there, trying hard to control my trembling, I felt a flare of heat as a bright light illuminated the scene. Oh, great. The thing breathed fire. Perfect.

A shout of pain made my heart squeeze tight. The Jeep around me gave a vicious tremor, glass popping and scattering along the asphalt. Shards bounced against my skin, leaving small, shallow cuts along the bare skin of my hands. Metal began to groan as the Jeep started to lean over, letting the silver light of the moon touch me. I looked up with apprehension, my throat turning dry. The monstrous creature stood over me, nostrils flaring. One darted glance showed Rixon trying to pull himself upright using a tree, and Patch lying motionless on the ground, blood turning his shirt a darker shade than black.

"No!" A shriek tore itself from my throat, shocking me with the grief it radiated. No, Patch could never die, I would know if he was –

A leaden weight slammed me backwards, the dull roar of the blow sending the world reeling. I hit the ground hard, rolling until I came to a stop. Pain thrummed along my skin, my lungs struggled to draw in a breath. Through the haze of pain I opened my eyes, seeing the creature stalk toward me. Its jagged claws raked a burning path across my side, batting me away. My scream choked me, bubbling in my throat. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back and thought my last thoughts.

But instead of thinking of my family, like I _should _have, I thought of another.

Patch.

_Patch, I think...I think I love you._

I felt the creature's hot breath hiss over me, but I refused to let myself react. Unable to resist, I cracked open one eye to see the monstrosity lunge toward me, serrated teeth merely an arm's length away. I broke my own promise and made a noise of fear, flinching. Just as I felt the moist heat of its throat, I was pushed aside roughly.

I was stunned for a short second, staring down at the road in wonder. Then I was hauled upright, hands tight around my arms. My legs refused to support me; the world was fuzzy and unclear. A hard voice swore quietly before knocking my knees out from under me and hoisting me up. Cradled against his chest, I could barely make out his face through the dark haze that was clouding my vision.

"I thought... angels were meant to... save you," I mumbled, struggling to see his face through the veil.

"If only that were true," He finally turned his face to me, and as he did my heart gave a stutter as the darkness, in all its impatient greed, pulled me in once more.

* * *

**_Like my subtle title sneak in? :P_**

**_I HAD to, it was completely necessary_**

**_Do not steer away from that review button! I see that hesitation, yeah, I do. Go on, click it. You will not regret it!_**

**_And i certainly won't_**

**_xo_**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Music drifted softly over from an old, crackly stereo. The bed under me was soft and warm, the blankets gathered around my feet. My eyelids felt like cement and my throat was on fire. I swallowed and burrowed deeper into the bed, before a burning pain in my side and sudden realisation sent my eyes flying open in shock.

I was in a strange room, the peaked ceiling dark and the walls cool blue stone that radiated a wintry chill like that of an iceberg. The bed I lay on was huge, with dark wooden posts and white sheets. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a huge solid bookcase; honey wood and wrought iron rails along the crown. One side of the bookcase was splintered and dented, disfiguring the frame; the shelves empty save for a crinkled photo and a thick book, the spine destroyed. It took me a moment to realise why this bookcase looked so exasperatingly familiar: this was the bookcase that once stood tall in my living room, one that just recently had been used as a bludgeon on a certain psychopathic fallen angel.

My breathing immediately escalated as my eyes did a speedy inspection of the room. No windows. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, gasping at the sting that set my side ablaze. I ducked my head to locate the cause of the pain, the sight causing my breath to catch.

The white sheets on my left side were smeared dark red, as was my left arm. Patch's hoodie had been removed, my tank top sticking to my skin across my ribs, torn to tatters, barely holding together at the seams. I noted with relief that what was left of my shirt still covered the essentials. Through the ragged material I found three deep, separate scratches gouged across my ribs.

_I need to get this cleaned up_, I thought as I tried to peel away the fabric that fastened to the dried blood. My breath hissed through my teeth when the material refused to budge, tears burning at the backs of my eyes. "Damn it," I muttered.

I rolled onto my good side until my bare feet touched the wooden floor. Grimacing, I dragged myself over to the door, pausing at the bookcase as I went. The old, creased photo that I noticed earlier had a splash of colour on it that caught my eye. Leaning forward in curiosity I found it was of a girl, her bright, red hair long and thick, cascading down her back. Her fair skin was radiant, rosy cheeks dimpled in a careless smile. Her eyes were lowered, long lashes casting shadows on her face. She wore a pale blue pinafore and a white ribbon in her hair and appeared to be throwing pieces of bread out onto a lake. It was hard to tell of her location, as the focus was clearly on her. Could this be her? Could this be...Elizabeth?

"No way," I breathed, attempted escape forgotten. I reached in further to pull out the heavy book, for maybe that had something interesting as well. It was layered in a film of dust. I flipped the book open to a random page and squealed when a dark, furry, many legged creature jumped out at me. I threw the book down and skittered backwards, tripping over my own feet. The loud thump the impact made echoed in my skull.

Not a heartbeat after the crash came a knock on the solid oak door. I hauled myself to my feet, no matter the ache that the movement caused. _I will be strong._

My eyes hunted for anything I could use as a weapon. There was nothing, the floors were bare and the bookcase held nothing that could be of any assistance. I wasn't strong enough to lob an entire bookcase at someone; perhaps someday if I ate my greens I would be able to accomplish that, but for now that was out of the question. In the midst of my frantic searching the door knob slowly began to turn.

I held my fists up in front of me like a boxer, despite my unsure expression and lack in basic self defence tactics. The door creaked at it was swung open, and _he _stood in the doorway, silhouetted by a brighter light outside this room. I noticed he carried something in his hand as he stepped into the room. As he came closer, I backed up, caught up in panic. My back hit the wall, hands slick against the smooth stone. He deposited the object he was holding, which I discovered in the dim lighting was a bowl, onto one of the busted shelves, his eyes never leaving me.

"Luke." My voice came out in a raspy croak.

"You're awake," was all he said.

"No, I'm sleep walking." Now wasn't the best time for sarcasm, but my fear put a bite to my words.

"Calm down, you don't need to be afraid," he held his hands up. "Not right now, anyway."

"Oh, that's defiantly going to make me feel right at home. Thanks." I glared at him, calculating the chances of getting through him to the door with my injury.

"Hey, I saved you from the _Venator. _It would've killed you if I hadn't have knocked you out of the way! Now, if you please, I need to clean up those cuts before they get infected."

"_Venator?_ That's what that thing was?" I pursed my lips, straightening back up when Luke retrieved the bowl and came towards me. "Wait..."

He smiled, his teeth sharp and white. "You don't trust me?"

"Of course not."

"I _saved _..."

"Yeah, yeah. You 'saved' me. But how do I know you just did that so you could kill me yourself?"

He raised one eyebrow thoughtfully. "I never thought of that. Good thinking, though."

_Crap._ "No! I- I need to get home..."

"Shh," he soothed, all traces of humour vanishing from his expression. "Let me clean your injury, those monsters are pretty feral things. Who knows whose remains it had under its claws?"

I almost gagged.

Distracted, I had no time to squirm away when he made his final pounce. He slammed his palms flat against the wall on either side of me, quickly grabbing my arms and towing me onto the bed. He ignored my squeak of terror, reaching for the bowl he set on the floor. I kicked at the mattress, pushing myself backwards. He stood up straight, eyes narrowing when he saw what I was trying to do. He reached across the bed and grabbed my ankle, pulling me back to him. "Come on!" he hissed, exasperated. "Stop squirming, do I have to sit on you?" He pushed me flat down and did exactly that. He crawled forward and sat lightly on my thighs, eradicating the use of my legs. The liquid in the bowl reeked of antiseptic, gauzy bandages were floating about amongst the liquid. Luke calmly set the bowl down and held a large hand against the side of my face, urging me to look at him. "I can make this painless for you, or if you make it difficult, it may become a very unpleasant experience. I can mute the pain through your mind, you won't feel a thing."

I stopped squirming enough so I could look into his sapphire eyes sceptically. "You'd do that? _Why_?"

His dark hair was mussed around his head and there was a streak of dirt painted across the line of his jaw. His brow furrowed slightly down at the middle and from within his eyes flashed a shadow of uncertainty. "I don't know," he raked a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I just...don't know."

The room was quiet as Luke got to work. I turned my head away as he began to peel the fabric from my skin, gritting my teeth to brace myself for the pain, and yet it never came.

Peeking sideways timidly, I stole a glance at Luke. His gaze was intent as he cleaned my side, patching me up.

Patching me up.

Patch.

Patch!

"No!" I gasped, lurching upright into a sitting position. The contents of the bowl sloshed over the edge, seeping into the woven cotton of the bedspread. Luke swore and planted a strong hand on my collarbone, pushing me back down into a horizontal position.

"What now?" he demanded furiously, hurriedly plastering on some gauze over his handiwork.

"_Patch,_" I choked, stiffly straightening up once more. "What happened to Patch?"

His silence was worse than any answer could be. The back of my throat began to ache with unshed tears, tremors radiated from my chest. I shook my head adamantly at the sheer horror. "No," I breathed. "_No, no, no."_

The pain of the slash across my ribs still was quietly absent, for the moment. I stumbled to my feet and lurched towards the door, my face twisted with determination to keep one foot in front of the other.

"Elle," Luke was right beside me, hands out at the ready if I collapsed. "You're in no condition to go searching for Patch. He could be anywhere, he could be..."

"Could be _what?"_ I asked hysterically. "Dead? Is that even possible?"

Luke lowered his eyes to the floor, shadows playing across the planes of his face. His cheekbones looked sharp, his eyes were shadowed. His lips moved, yet no sound came out.

"What?" I leant closer, trying to catch his words. Every second spent here was wasted seconds. Patch could be in jeopardy, I couldn't waste anymore time.

"I said," Luke raised his voice, lifting his deep blue eyes to mine. The emotions that clashed behind those vibrant irises gave one the impression of a thunderstorm. "There is a likely chance he is gone- forever."

My whimper sounded painful, even to my own ears.

"But," he dragged out a sigh, raking a hand through his hair, "there is also a chance he got away. I'm going to help you find him."

Twice in a matter of minutes, Luke surprised me. "Really?"

He nodded once. "Really. Can you walk?"

I gestured to myself. "I'm standing, aren't I?"

His eyes ran up and down my body. He crept closer to me, his form towering over mine. Slipping an arm around my shoulders, he gave me a gentle nudge forward. "Just in case," he clarified.

As we reached the door, a thought exploded into my mind. It had been there, at the back of my mind, but the forefront thoughts had overruled my mind until this moment. "My parents!" I gasped. I twisted out of his grip and shot him a venomous glare. "Where are they?" A pang of guilt shot through me knowing I forgot, no matter how briefly, I still forgot.

"What?" he shot me a bemused look. "How should I know? They're _your _parents."

His answer seemed so sincere, so honest. It rattled my anger, confusion taking its place. "You... you took them to lure me home." My accusation sounded more like a question.

His brows creased. "Elle, I've never even seen your parents. Why would you think I'd kidnap them?"

"Because...because someone told me."

"I'm afraid you have been sadly misinformed."

* * *

**Let me just dust the cobwebs away from this story *dust dust***

**I'm back, Patch is back, Elle is back, Luke is back.**

**And hopefully we won't be going anywhere anytime soon!**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, reviews would be day-making :P**

**xo**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"This doesn't make sense," the words were tumbling out of my mouth, my thoughts too jumbled to make sense of. We were hurrying down several flights of stairs, the steps rounded stone that had been worn down with age and use. The ache in my side was starting to make its presence know once more. The skin at my ribs felt like it was tearing with each step down. The pain was still muted slightly, but it seemed Luke was very distracted at the present moment.

"What doesn't make sense, Elle?" Luke's arm was tight around my waist as he assisted me down each flight, visibly holding his speed in check so I could keep up. "Is it the fact that someone lied to you that I kidnapped your parents, or the fact that Patch, a fallen angel with immortal life, could be dead right now?"

I winced inwardly at that, my heart refusing to believe Patch could be dead. "Well...yes. Both. But also... I'm bewildered at your change of heart. Why are you helping me?" We had finally reached level ground. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before I was smuggled outside into the harsh, frigid morning. The sun was yet to rise. The sky was a watered down grey, everything was touched with shadows.

"That," Luke whipped his head around; searching, "is a very good question. But before I answer that, we need wheels- now." He sucked in his bottom lip, a frown creasing his forehead. "Wait here," he said, sitting me on the porch steps. With that he took off running, his figure disappearing around the corner of the building.

While he was gone, I had a chance to inspect the dwelling I had just escaped from. I craned my neck to take in the tall, narrow, run down structure. It was a house, or perhaps a small hotel, that had clearly been closed down for many years. Windows were boarded up, graffiti was scrawled across the bleak grey canvas that was the concrete walls. The small set of steps that lead to the dusty porch was cracked and weed ridden. I sighed as I leant against the dirty white pillar that held up the veranda. I was so exhausted, despite the number of times in the past 24 hours I had been unconscious. Both mentally and physically I was fatigued.

Luke had been gone for some time, and in his absence I noticed something else. I had run my fingers through my hair in a pointless attempt to tame the chaos when my fingers got caught in a particularly matted chunk of hair. My brows furrowed. It felt like the hair had been glued together. Then I remembered back at the Jeep. Glass shards, the slick road, blood. My blood, the dull aching that lanced along my skull. Gingerly, I felt along my skull, gasping when I pressed a tender spot. Proceeding with baited-breath caution, I touched the skin there with a feather like stroke. Along my skin was a thick ridge of thread...almost like someone had stitched me up. "Shit," I muttered, eyes wide, exhaustion forgotten.

At that moment Luke came jogging around the corner, something round and oddly shaped tucked under his arm. He was grinning despite himself. "Found us a ride," he called gleefully. "Hope you're strong enough to use your spider monkey skills."

"What?"

He disappeared again, though briefly. The next moment he was wheeling a sleek, silver motor bike around to the front of the building. It stood glossy and dangerous, the silver paint job bright even in the subdued dawn lighting. "Oh, God," I uttered, eyeing the monster.

"Come along," Luke cocked his head.

"Where did you get that thing?" I pulled myself up, using the pillar for support. Luke closed the distance between up, twirling the helmet around his hands. Carefully, he set the helmet atop my head, fastening the strap so that it fit snugly.

"Bo's Arcade. Pretty rough place, you wouldn't find many young girls hanging around there. But, fortunately there are plenty of bikies, which was very convenient for us tonight." He fit his hands onto either side of the helmet, where my face was trapped. His blue eyes caught mine, a visible confliction clashing in that ocean. "Are you hurting?"

To my surprise and shame, my eyes began to tear up. My throat ached with the brimming dismay that filled my eyes. "Hurting?" I choked out. I closed my eyes, trying to hide the tears from Luke, but the motion caused a traitorous tear to slip down my cheek. "Just a little." It was not only the physical pain that twinged across my whole body, but that continuous nagging of fear that Patch could be gone. My heart gave a panicked spasm and I whimpered. "Let's just go, please?"

Luke nodded, releasing me. He slid onto the bike with ease, running his hands over the smooth leather of the seat, across the handlebars. An appreciative smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Me? I was a little less enthusiastic about the motorbike, but desperate times...

With blatant reluctance I climbed onto the large bike, wiggling around to get comfortable. I tried to keep some distance between Luke and myself, leaving less than 10cm between us. I looked down at my hands, wondering wildly where I was supposed to put them. "Around me would be a good place," Luke answered my unspoken question, "unless you _want _to go flying off the bike?"

With a huff I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his torso, waiting breathlessly for the roar of the engine. With the softest of chuckles, he let the bike snarled and shoot forward a couple of metres before he slammed on the breaks. The short burst of speed followed by the sharp stop eliminated the small space I had kept between us; it had caused me to slide forward so that my thighs were pressed onto the outsides of his and not a wisp of air could fit between us. I grumbled to myself, grasping onto the material of his shirt tighter as the bike finally set off.

Whooshing along the slick, grey road in morning twilight was terrifying. I spent most of the ride with my eyes squeezed shut and my face pressed into Luke's shoulder blade. Luke was obviously enjoying himself, the adrenaline making him gleeful and temporarily relieved from the tense situation we were in. The wind was like ice on my bare skin. It seeped through the holes in my tank top, chilling my skin. I felt frozen and dirty.

The bike came to a stop, the growl of the engine quieting. "Elle," Luke unwrapped my stiff arms from around his waist. "We're here."

I pried my eyes open, looking around myself to the empty, silent street. "What the...?"

The street was completely empty. There was no sign of Rixon or Patch, or the upturned Jeep Commander. The only evidence of the horror was the splinters of glass that sparkled along the asphalt and the dark patches of blood. Luke was inspecting every shard of glass, ever shadow; looking for something, anything to go by. Panic was rising up in my throat, my breathing was haggard. Patch, where was he? I stood by the bike, memories assailing my mind.

Luke had been the one to smash the car window into my head. Luke invaded my mind. If he hadn't stopped us, or even lured us back here, the animal- the...what had Luke called it? Ventor? Venay? Venator! That's it- wouldn't have found us. Patch wouldn't be missing, or possibly...dead. Hot, scorching anger filled my chest.

Luke, oblivious to my thoughts, was slowly making his way back to me, gazing at something in his hand. I was so furious I wanted to claw at my face, wanting to escape from this uncontrollable fury. "Look at this," Luke said at the exact moment I punched him in the jaw.

"_Ow!_" I shrieked, bending over my aching fist. "You freaking dickhead!"

Luke was staring at me bemusedly, watching me curse and massage my hand. "Why did you do that?" he wasn't offended or wounded, just curious. Red coloured my vision.

"This is all your fault!" I screamed at him. If I could never look into Patch's midnight eyes again, I don't know what I'd do. Luke's eyes, a sapphire blue, taunted me. "It's all you, I _hate _you." Ignoring the pain in my hand, I flew at him. I kicked and punched at every part of him I could reach, injuring myself more than him. His body was so hard, like I was punching a wall. Soon I couldn't see him through the blinding tears. "You've ruined everything, everything." With each word I sunk my knuckles into him, sobbing at the pain.

"Elle," he grabbed my wrists with one of his hands, holding them fast. "Really, you're hurting yourself more than you're hurting me."

"Let go of me," I cried, fruitlessly trying to twist out of his grip. "You've killed him, you've doomed us all. Go to hell!" I spat at the floor, tears of anger burning trails down my face.

"Elle, listen," he tried to meet my eyes, to get my attention. I snarled and thrashed to get away from him; his presence was making me deranged with anger. "Listen to me!" he demanded, jerking me roughly. I went still from shock at his sudden harshness. "I know I did some terrible things, but something is wrong here. Very wrong. I didn't feel... It was like someone else was controlling me. I- I don't know. But I've never felt like I did before, ever. It was like I was possessed with this outside rage. But- but now it's gone. Well, not gone exactly. But more like it's muted. Distracted? I'm in control now, and now I can see that whatever is happening right now is bigger than any of us. So if you please stop using me as a punching bag, I have something that will help us find Patch."

That sobered me up. "You mean...he's alive?" Hope blossomed in my chest.

"I never said that."

I felt my face fall.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "But look," he held his free palm out to me. It was a round, black disc, larger than the span of Luke's hand. As he tilted it from side to side it glimmered, catching the light of the early sun.

"What is it?" I asked dubiously.

"It's a scale," Luke looked at me. "From the front leg of the Venator. These only fall out when the scales have been ruffled or disturbed. Which could either mean that there was more of a struggle when we left, or someone climbed onto the beast for a joyride."

"But how could you even do that? Just merrily climb onto the monster and use it as a taxi?"

"How?" Luke raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up around his face. "Well, only the archangels have the power to order the Venator. You know how I said these circumstances may be bigger than just us?"

I nodded.

"I believe the archangels are involved. And they want Patch."

"No! Why? He didn't do anything," my voice bounced off the street.

"I can think of some crimes. And if I can, the archangels sure can." He narrowed his eyes down the road, distracted. After an unsure moment, the breath he'd been holding onto slithered out of the corners of his smile. "Well, would you look at that."

I tried to follow his gaze. "What is it?"

"Another scale," he held up the flat disc that he'd been holding. Luke stalked past me to the bike, kicking it in action. The snarls of the machine ripped through the peaceful morning. "Looks like we have our trail of bread crumbs."

* * *

_I'm a bad, bad author *smack on the wrist*_

_Please forgive me for being so laaazy?_

_You know...reading the amazing reviews you guys leave me with really kicks me into action, no joke. *hinty hint* ;)_

_xo_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

It had been a while since either Luke or I had spotted another gleaming scale. The bike was like a bullet, shooting across the deserted highway. My body had grown numb to the cold sometime ago, which probably wasn't a good sign. The sky was rapidly growing lighter, beams of gold erupting from the horizon. "You ok back there, Elle?" Luke shouted over the roar of the bike.

"Y-yes," my teeth chattered. "Why can't we find anymore scales? Did we lose the trail?" dread filled my tone.

"No, I think we're very much on the right track. I have a very strong suspicion where the Venator has gone, but yes, another scale would be a nice indication that I'm right." He leant forward slightly, pressing harder against the gas.

Mustering up my courage, I leaned around Luke to peer desperately over at the road ahead of us. My eyes searched frantically for anything along the road that would help us. A gold flash caught my eye from the side of the road. Narrowing my eyes to the distance, I felt excitement rush through me. "There!" I shouted, pointing. "Another scale, we're going the right way!"

"I knew it. You've got a good eye, for a human," Luke complimented.

"Um, thanks?" we passed the scale, nestled among the trees. The morning sun had caught the gleaming edge of the scale, which was what had caught my attention. "So, where do you think its leading us?"

'Well, here's the thing. I _know _where it's leading us. But it doesn't make sense. Archangels and their cronies don't go there. It's strictly a place for the fallen; the rest of us have no interest in it. Well," Luke's voice lowered, so that it seemed he was talking to himself more than to me, "perhaps soon it will be the only place for me."

I waited for more, but he seemed to have lost himself in his thoughts. "Where?" I prodded.

Luke cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Delphic Amusement Park. You ever been there?"

I shook my head, then remembered Luke wasn't looking at me. "No," I said, "but I've heard about it. I was planning to go sometime, when it reopens. Its only open for the summer, isn't it?"

"That's what I've heard. During the winter, it's occupied by...a different crowd."

"You mean fallen angels?" I shivered. Luke had finally turned off the highway and was weaving down side streets. We emerged from the narrow streets to be greeted with the ocean front. He brought the bike to a sharp turn to follow the road up, so that we were parallel to the ocean. Further up, I could see the twisting structure of a rollercoaster, the spires of a Ferris wheel piercing the sky.

"Welcome to your first visit to Delphic Seaport Amusement Park. May I suggest you stay away from the corndogs and enjoy a wild ride upon the new and improved Mad Mouse rollercoaster?" Luke's voice was flat and monotonous. He cut the engine off about 200 meters from the large iron gates that closed off the park from the road. "From here, we walk."

Rubbish littered the cracked pavement and swirled around our ankles. I wrinkled my nose as I picked my way carefully around the swarms of trash. "Nice place," I commented sarcastically.

"Don't be judgemental," Luke teased, "You should see it in the summer. It's teeming with people and the lights are bright and the sounds of euphoric screams, laughter and creepy clown music fill the air. It's beautiful." Luke's teeth flashed.

"Yeah, sounds...heavenly."

Luke shot me a look. "Did you just make an 'angel' joke?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Luke shook his head, a reluctant smile lingering at his lips. "Better keep an eye on you, shouldn't I?"

"If you can. Now...what are we supposed to do?" We were crouching by the closed wrought iron gates. I stared up at the looming gateway with apprehension. "Are we just going to waltz in there, calling for Patch at the top of our lungs?"

Luke was squatting next to me, his arm resting against mine. It was so warm against my chilly skin that I didn't protest and move away. "First of all," he murmured, "there will absolutely be no waltzing whatsoever."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes. But in all seriousness- how is this going to work?"

Luke's face was wiped clean of all mischief and humour. He was serious, in soldier mode. "Ok, pay attention, because I'm not repeating myself. I'm going in first by myself," he held a hand up to stop my protests, "and when I work out the coast is clear, and am certain of where Patch is being kept, I will come for you."

I nodded, listening to him relay his plan out. The more he said, the more I grew anxious. A lot was depending on chance, and me. I swallowed down my fear and nodded along, surreptitiously wiping the flat of my hand against the underside of my pyjama bottoms. When he'd finally finished he looked at me expectantly. "So, you're good?"

"Yes," that came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, I'm good."

Luke bit back a laugh. He turned his face away to hide his brief surge of amusement. When he turned to face me, his features were arranged into a sombre expression. His eyes were duller than usual. "Be careful," his arms raised as if on their own accord to rest on my shoulders. His fingers dug into the bare skin there with his intensity. "Remember the plan, remember the code word. I'll be close by." His eyes were so close. I gazed into them, searching for any hint of the evil being that once swum in those depths. I could find nothing but sincerity.

Closing my eyes and gathering all the courage I could fit into my body, I slowly nodded. "Ok. I trust you, Luke." I opened my eyes in time to see surprise flitting across his face. Quickly he tried to cover this brief lapse in his usual cool demeanour.

"Good girl. Ok, I'll be back. Don't move, no matter what." With that Luke backed up slightly, away from the gate, and in one swift motion he scaled up the concrete wall and disappeared over it.

Pushing out a shuddering sigh, I slid down the wall until the chilly pavement and I met. The cold seeped through my flannel pyjamas and slithered up my spine, causing me to shiver. Planting my elbows on my knees, I rested my face in my hands. My ribs burnt with every movement, screaming at the fabric of my tank top that rubbed mercilessly at the wound.

_If I ever make it out of here alive, the first thing on my list is a shower._

A deep, strangled sound came from my elbow. My heart jumped up into my throat and my stomach dropped slightly.

A grey cat sat, watching me with keen, yellow eyes. Its hair was long and straggly, its feathery tail quivering like a music note. We stared at each other, it with a sort of expectancy and me with apprehension. "Hey there, kitty," I whispered.

The cat cocked its head, emitting another low yowl. Holding my hand out cautiously, I beckoned it closer. "Come on, little one. What are you doing out here all alone?"

The cat's head bobbed as it sniffed at my hand. Deciding I wasn't dangerous, it hesitantly leant its small head into my hand. I scratched its ears, my mouth stretching into a smile on its own volition. "You're a good...girl?" I pursed my lips. "Well, let's hope you're a girl, or else I might have just made an awkward mistake." She licked the back of my hand with a rough, sandpaper tongue. "You're not hungry, are you?" I asked her. "Because, I have no food. I can't remember the last time I ate," I added with dawning realisation. "Wow, I really can't."

The cat's head suddenly shot up, her ears pressed flat against her head. A soft growl came from her shuddering form. Like a wisp of smoke she turned and ran across the street, disappearing among the grey buildings. A small pang of sadness came to me in her absence.

"Hey," a gust of breath ghosted my ear. I whirled around, heart hammering.

"Jesus!" with a hand to my heart, I glared at Luke. "Can you _please_ not sneak up on me like that?"

Luke ignored me. "Everything is quiet. No sign of anyone. But that might mean they already know we're here. My best guess is that they are in the Haunted House."

"And...they are?"

"Patch, and whoever brought him here."

I swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling ill with nerves.

"Don't be afraid," Luke murmured. "Just remember the plan."

"Right, yes," I nodded, "the plan. The infallible, undefeatable, absolutely flawless plan."

He sent me a half smile that showed his white teeth. "Go get 'em, tiger."

I ducked my head, shaking it. "I'm going in."

The huge gate made a treacherous creak as I pushed it open. I winced and froze, waiting for the floodgates of hell to be unleashed upon me. When nothing but decaying trash stirred I stole forward.

The shadows welcomed me with open arms. I scanned the area. Everything looked so surreal when bathed in the morning light. Shadows were heightened, the rollercoaster's looked like spiralling train tracks that would lead you to the heavens. Casting my eyes skyward, I mentally chastised myself over making these lame, angel jokes.

From what I observed, the Haunted House was over at the far side of the park. Adopting the walk of that of a spy, I kept to the edges of the perimeter, skimming the walls until the Haunted House grew closer.

It stood ominous and dark, even in the morning light. There was a certain darkness to it that was more than just the paint job. It was colder here; perhaps it was merely my imagination. Upon the dark paintwork bore the words: Haunted House, in blood red script. Ghouls and witches and other creatures of the night were painted upon the building in a tacky attempt of horror.

A jangling of chains made me snap back to the immediate situation. Someone was stepping over the chains that divided the entrance of the Haunted House from the rest of the park. That someone looked very familiar.

"_Rixon!"_

Abandoning all discretion, I sprinted to him, relief plain on my face. His eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open. Clearly, he was surprised. "Elle?" he said, eyes darting around. "What are you doing here?"

Panting slightly, I glanced over my shoulder before looking back at Rixon. "I came to find you, and Patch. Is Patch here? Are you alright? Who brought you here? It was the arch angels wasn't it?" I was babbling, my words were stumbling over themselves.

"Who else knows you're here?" Rixon asked. There was something in his tone that made me stop short. I looked at him again. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, sticking his blue-black hair to his neck and forehead. His cheeks looked gaunt, and a purpling bruise was blossoming over his cheekbone.

I opened my mouth to answer him when a voice whispered in my mind.

_Lie._

Going rigid, it took me a moment to form an answer. "No one. No one knows I'm here. Why, Rixon? What's going on?"

Instead of answering, Rixon's arm shot out, faster than I thought possible, and collided with my skull. He didn't put much force into it, but with his fallen angel strength, it was enough. A loud, echoing _thump_ bounced around my skull and a black curtain of morbid finality snapped down over my eyes.

* * *

_I'm sure all these blows to the head can't be healthy :/_

_All I can say is SHAZAAM!_

_And I haven't abandoned this story, it is nearing the end, I will see it through!_

_xo_


	23. Chapter 23

_It's been a ridiculously long time, and I am a horrible person._

_Thank you so much for keeping faith in this story, in Elle and Patch (droooool) and Luke (drooool some more) and in me, even if i am a mean author :(_

_I'm sorry if you find any spelling errors or anything, but i was really anxious to just finish this chapter tonight and GET IT ON HERE!_

_Also, if you have delicate ears (...or eyes...) proceed with caution because there is a naughty four letter word somewhere down the track. But trust me, you won't blame them for using that word when you realise who it is directed at :)_

_What else is there to say...oh yeah. This story will soon be coming to a close. Keep holding on! And I want to thank those amazing reviewers (you know who you are) who really kicked my butt into gear to finish this chap. Good work guys!_

_Anyways, go ahead, let me know what you think :)_

_xox_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

My wrists were _aching._

I was sitting on a cold, hard surface, the chill of the floor seeping into my bones. When I opened my eyes, the dark room spun before swimming into focus. It was long and rectangular, I couldn't see any doors and there were definitely no windows. The only light came from slits in the ceiling above me, causing thin ribbons of light to fall down across the dusty, dark space. A gleam of chrome in the muted light caught my attention. Two parallel lines of it travelling from one side of the room to another. It was then when it clicked: I was inside the Haunted House.

Squirming uncomfortably, I tried to stand up. Immediately I found the source behind my aching wrists. My arms were pulled up over my head and secured to the wall behind me with rusted, heavy manacles that were attached to a corroded chain that sunk deep into the wall. I swore and yanked stupidly on the cuffs, panic exploding in my chest. My breathing was broken and echoing in this empty room. The manacles wouldn't budge. The metal was bitingly cold; it hadn't taken any of my body warmth. My fingertips were tingling painfully from the loss of blood circulation.

A whimper escaped me. I felt so vulnerable in this position. Anything could happen and I'd be powerless to stop it. _Ok, ok, _I thought to myself. _Deep breaths, panicking isn't going to help you now._ I inhaled deeply, trying to will my heartbeat to slow to a normal rhythm.

As I was focussing on not passing out from terror, I thought about ways of escape. The manacles that were holding me in place must have been a part of the set for this room. They couldn't be _real_, could they? The makers of the Haunted House wouldn't install real manacles. That must mean that there should be a way to open these without a key.

Shuffling my feet until they were right under my body, I attempted to haul myself up into a crouched position. I twisted my body around so that I was facing the walls and the manacles, with my arms twisted one over the other. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light. I was able to closely inspect the shackles enclosing my wrists. Running my fingers over one, I felt the rough surface, skated over the bumps and indentations, and stopped at a thin line that was cut down the entire length of it. My breathing stopped. The manacles must be the flexible metal that rings are sometimes made from, where to adjust the size you only have to squeeze the metal inwards to make it tighter, or pry it apart to loosen it.

Biting my lip in determination, I dug my fingers into one side on the metal, and used the wrist trapped in that manacle and pulled them both in different directions. All my strength was used, but the metal was difficult. Whoever closed this over my wrist must have been strong. Very strong. Super-humanly strong, perhaps. I felt a rush of anger towards Rixon. Though it felt like what I did made no difference, I scrutinised it once more, and to my surprise found that the thin line of separation had become slightly larger in width. If I could just enlarge that margin of space between the metal to a certain extent, perhaps I would be able to squeeze my hand free.

With a new wave of resolve, I began to pull the metal apart once more. The skin at my wrist was rubbed red raw and my fingernails were ripping but I stole through the pain. The space had expanded to a width of one centimetre. I began to twist my hand, watching with dawning triumph as it slowly, agonisingly came free.

As one came free of the hated shackle, I gave no time to celebrate as I set to free my other hand. It was the same testing method. A grunt of frustration escaped from my clenched teeth as I felt my skin tear from under the metal. This wrist was slightly more difficult to set free. As I was twisting my hand, rivulets of blood began to run down the length of my arm from under the manacle. A rolling wave of nausea shuddered through me, but I bit it down when I saw that the blood was actually helping my hand come free. The metal turned slick on my skin, and finally, with a cry of relief, my hand was yanked free.

Without another thought to my bleeding wrists, I darted to one side of the room, feeling for a door. The door was camouflaged with the wall, but after hearing the hollow thump when my fist drove against the surface I located it. It opened with a low, ominous creak that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I winced at the noise, then stopped breathing. I waited for something, anything to fly out and jump out at me. Nothing stirred, so, with legs like jelly, I went on.

I had no idea if I was venturing deeper within the Haunted House, or heading toward the exit. I just had to pray that every door I passed through would not be the last thing I did.

Another door came looming into view. I took a deep breath before resting my palm on the flat surface, readying myself for the next obstacle. Yet as soon as the skin of my palm brushed against the wood, I gasped and whipped my hand back. The surface of the door was freezing to the point where it burnt.

Every nerve in my body quivered. Something was clearly not right here, and I knew that danger lurked on the other side of this door. Yet somehow I couldn't turn and leave. Something was pulling me to this room, some unexplained urgency.

I expected myself to start shaking with fear, or feel the fluttering panic from within my chest, but surprisingly only a numb, hollow sensation billowed from within my torso. Suddenly I cursed myself for not having some sort of weapon I could use for protection. A voice quickly diminished that thought; what weapon could I use against an immortal, super strong fallen angel? Nothing.

Pulling the waistband of my pants away from my body, I used the material there to protect my hand as I twisted the frozen door knob. The chill was barely muted through the fabric; the nerves in my hand gave a screech of protest. The door was slightly ajar now. Wintry air whispered through the crack, curling in icy tendrils around my neck and arms and cooling the blood that stained my wrists. I shuddered violently. Shutting my eyes briefly, I let the air in my chest _whoosh_ out, trying to force myself to realise that the end could be near. The end of me. I clenched my teeth, refusing to let the irritating fear get to me.

The door protested at my force, wanting to stubbornly stay shut, despite the urgency of the situation. A dark room greeted me, long and wide, shadows clouding the far wall. Some wooden slates were missing in the ceiling, allowing for golden shafts of forgotten sunlight to paint soft brushstrokes of heaven across the gloomy, black canvas. One streak of the gold fell across something out of place in this empty room. I squinted slightly, trying to distinguish the shapes. Then I gasped, heart flying into my throat.

"Oh my God!" I cried, rushing forward, "Patch!"

My feet slapped against the wooden floor, sending echoes throughout the room. Patch was propped up against the far wall, legs stretched out in front of him, his head hanging low so that his midnight hair obscured his eyes. I fell to my knees before him, air rasping in and out from my windpipe with every aching breath. "Patch," I called, my voice breaking. I ducked my head to meet his eyes. "Patch, it's me, Elle," sobs fractured my words. "Please, Patch look at me. We need to go."

He remained silent, his chin on his chest. With a moment of hesitation, I reached out to tuck my fingers under his chin, gently tilting his face upwards. The light that skirted across his face illuminated the red line above his left eyebrow and the purpling bruise on his cheekbone. What frightened me most though was the pure emptiness that hollowed out his black eyes as he looked back at me. Searching with hysteric desperation for the sparkling, wicked glint in those dark pools for the Patch I knew, I felt a thrill of panic when I couldn't find him.

"Patch, please," I whispered, lifting a trembling hand to place it flat against the side of his face, feeling the hard planes of his jaw and the slight stubble that grated against my palm. "It's me, Elle. Look at me, Patch," the urge to scream was building in my chest. I knew disaster was so close, and I had not one clue what was wrong with Patch.

Patch stared at me blankly for an agonizingly long moment, his glorious face trapped between my quaking hands. Then he slowly raised his hands, though there was something odd about the movement. His wrists never moved more than two inches apart, so it seemed as though he was raising his hands in a pray -like motion. When his fingers brushed against my cheek I let out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding. I bit my lip to hold back a whimper of relief. Life was beginning to leach its way into his eyes once more. When he drew his hands away from my face, his fingertips came away glinting with liquid. I raised a hand to my face in confusion, swiping my tongue against my bottom lip and tasting the salt. I didn't realise I had been crying.

"Elle," Patch murmured, his voice hoarse. He stopped to clear his throat before trying again. "Elle, what are you doing..." sudden realisation dawned in his obsidian eyes. "Elle!" Awkwardly manoeuvring his arms, which still refused to part from each other, he cupped my face and drew me close. A sob escaped me before our lips crashed together.

The kiss was desperate and hungry, mingling with the salty taste of my tears that were now flowing freely. I twisted my fingers into the torn, dusty material of his t-shirt, pressing my lips to his lips, the edge of his jaw, to the cut above his left eyebrow. His fingers stroked my neck as his lips found mine again. "Patch," I mumbled against his mouth, "you need to get out..." I trailed off as he sucked on my bottom lip.

"I can't," Patch whispered as he wound a limp curl of my hair around his thumb, using that to pull me closer.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "We have to get out of here, Rixon-"

"Killer," Patch began, his face caught on a pained expression, "I literally can't leave."

I frowned, my growing uneasiness making me impatient. "What? Why?"

Patch held up his hands. "I'm chained."

_Has he gone crazy? _"Patch, you're not tied up. There's nothing there." I said this gently, as if I was talking to a small child.

Patch closed his eyes. "Spiritual matter. Humans can't see it, but it's as real as any iron, steel or cable. There are manacles around my wrists, the chain sinks into the ground there," he nodded to a patch of seemingly undisturbed floor.

I sat back on my haunches, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes. Helplessness crashed over me, followed closely by a gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea what to do. The previous plan Luke devised had been blown to smithereens the moment I had called out to Rixon outside the Haunted House. The code word was useless; no one would hear my screams from deep within this hellish house. I had almost forgotten Luke. He said he'd be close by, but then where was he? "Listen, Patch. We might have a chance; Lu-"

"Well, well, well." A voice came from the doorway behind me: an easily recognisable voice whose Irish inflection had once seemed charming. Now I shuddered at that voice.

I turned slowly, hot anger replacing the chilling fear that had before occupied me. Rixon stood in the doorway, his face in shadow. My neck turned hot with rage. "Screw you, you sick bastard." I was amazed when my words came out low, steady and lethal.

Rixon stepped forward so I was able to make a distinction between him and the surrounding gloom. He held a hand to his heart in a show of shock. "Why, Elle, darling! I thought we had something special?"

"Go fuck yourself," I spat.

Rixon stepped closer again. A ribbon of light fell across his face, and I watched as his face visibly darkened into a hard, terrifying expression. I shrank back into Patch despite myself, betraying my bravado. "I knew I should have kept a closer eye on you. How did you escape?"

"It wasn't hard," I lifted my chin boldly, swallowing my fear. "It must have been a disabled monkey or something that tied me up."

_Good one,_ Patch chuckled in my mind.

Rixon raised one eyebrow, unamused. "I can't wait until you've serve your purpose," he growled, "so that there will be no use for you. Killing you will be worthwhile."

Patch snarled from behind me. "You won't _touch_ her."

Rixon looked around me, sending Patch a half smile. "Sorry, mate. But you kind of don't have a say in the matter."

"I'm not your 'mate'," Patch said darkly.

I piped up. "Why are you doing this? I thought you and Patch were friends."

He settled his eyes on me. "When you are presented with a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that you've been waiting for your entire existence, 'friends' becomes a very trivial term."

I felt Patch stop moving. I raised one eyebrow, "Care to elaborate?"

A long pause. "The Archangels have it out for you, Patch. They've been searching for reasons for years to use as an excuse to send you-" he pointed downwards.

I furrowed my brows, confused. Then it clicked. They were looking for reasons to send Patch to Hell. I gave a sudden intake of air, letting my control slip down a few notches.

"You've got to understand," Rixon said, suddenly desperate. "They offered me something that goes beyond my... your..._our_ wildest dreams. If I was the one to give them you with a legitimate reason for damnation... they would...turn me human." Rixon paused to let the emphasis of those words sink in, savouring the taste of them in his mouth.

I could feel fury simmering off Patch's body, but the words he spoke next were steady and cool. "Well, I hope you cooked up something interesting for the Archangels. You know how they enjoy drama. What was your reason, _mate?"_

Rixon lifted one side of his mouth in a leer. He nodded to me, "Her."

I blinked, shocked. "Me?"

Rixon bowed his head in confirmation.

"How am I your reason?" From behind me I heard Patch groan quietly.

Rixon ignored my question for the moment. "History repeating, aye mate?"

Patch didn't say anything. I turned to look at him to see his face blank, a blank canvas, all except for the muscle that twitched in his jaw. That was all that gave away to his agitation.

"How am I your reason?" I repeated. "I haven't done anything!"

"It's not what you've done," Rixon grinned. "It's what you _know._"

I opened my mouth to ask another question before I stopped myself short. I wasn't supposed to know about fallen angels. I, a mere human, was not allowed to know such a huge secret. Just like Elizabeth wasn't supposed to know...

"But this has happened before," I gabbled, my boldness shaken, "with Elizabeth. Patch didn't receive such harsh punishment then! So now-"

"The first time he was let off with a warning," Rixon interrupted. "Weren't you, Patch?"

Silence.

"They are not going to be happy about a repeated offence," Rixon mused, practically rubbing his hands together in glee.

"You're sick," I said, appalled.

"You said that already," Rixon pointed out.

"Yes, well it seems worth repeating!"

"You wouldn't say that if you were in my place, and the chance to become human was just within reach."

I shook my head. "What's so great about becoming human anyway? You're born, you age, you die. Yeah, sounds appealing," sarcasm saturated my tone.

This time it was Patch that answered me. "Being human is so much more than that." His voice was empty, neutral. "You live on this earth, you belong here. You can _feel._ You don't experience everything through a glass slate. You don't have a constant craving to take life. You're human: your life is like a blazing flame; it can be snuffed out so suddenly, but that's why it burns so bright."

"Snuffed out so suddenly," Rixon echoed. He took a step towards me, murder in his eyes.

"Wait!" I cried, throwing my hands up. "One more question?"

Rixon turned his palms up, exasperation pinching his eyebrows together from under his shaggy, raven hair. "What do you think this is? Twenty questions?"

"Please?"

He rolled his eyes. "Could never resist a pretty face, even if it's a pretty face I'm going to kill."

I ploughed onwards, trying not to let that comment register in my brain. "What did Luke have to do with this all? He started off as the bad guy, but now..."

"Lucian was a tool in this whole operation. The Archangels have power, what you've seen us fallen angels do is nothing, _nothing _in comparison to their power. They manipulated Lucian's mind, twisting it so that it became bent on revenge against Patch. He became to you the prime suspect, when in reality it was me all along. Lucian allowed for us to reach this moment. "

In a movement too swift for me to see, Rixon suddenly launched himself forward towards me and, with his hand wrapped around my throat, pushed me backwards into the wall. My head cracked against the plaster. Patch shouted words I couldn't understand from under the ringing in my ears. Rixon's eyes were dark, beady and malicious. Sweat stuck his hair to his forehead and neck. His nose was almost pressed against mine. Oxygen struggled to squeeze its way past Rixon's pressure on my windpipe. Rixon's accent slipped into something different, something dark. "We should really thank him for it."

"You're welcome." A voice spoke from behind Rixon moments before he was yanked off his feet and hurled across the room.

Clutching my throat and gasping for air, I glanced up towards the voice, tears streaming down my face. Luke stood in the middle of the room, a sheepish expression on his face. "Better late than never, hey?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Luke stood before me, a beam of gold light from the ruined ceiling bestowing upon him the look of a god. I stared at him in wonder, silent shock filling in the absence of words. Luke's eyes softened as he took in my terror. "Hey," he murmured, "let me have a look at those wrists."

I looked down at my wrists in dazed bemusement. A dull thrum of surprise went through me as I saw again the damage to my wrists and hands the manacles had caused. "No," I muttered, shaking my head and tearing my eyes away from the bloody mess. "Patch...the chains."

Sliding down the wall, I came eye level with Patch. His eyes were furious, light dancing away behind his irises like a flame. His jaw was clenched, and to my horror blood was slowly welling up from his skin around his wrists where his manacles would be digging in. He must've thrown himself against the chains with all his strength when Rixon attacked me.

At if that thought had called to him, Rixon rose from his crumpled position on the floor and launched himself at Luke. It was as though my brain had suddenly gained the ability to perceive the outside world much quicker, so that I was able to take in the scene as if it was in slow motion. Rixon's blue-black hair flew out around his face, the bruise on his cheekbone angry and ugly. He was a vision of hell, the murderous intent and desperation in his malicious eyes burning holes in his face. I hadn't even a moment to scream before Luke was knocked to the ground.

Rixon and Luke rolled across the floor until they collided with the wall. The room shook around us at the collision. Rixon had the upper hand, his hands were curled into fists as they relayed blow after blow against Luke's skin. Patch was swearing fluently as he scrambled to his feet and attempted to launch himself into the brawl, only to be pulled back as the spiritual chains reached their limit. He planted his feet wide apart and yanked his arms upwards, trying to break the bond. Fresh blood began to slither down his arms and drip to the dusty floor in sickening gobbets.

I felt pinned to the wall, desperate to free Patch but frantically itching to stop the fight, one I knew I was too helplessly human to cease. With each dull thump of Rixon's knuckles to Luke's face, I felt the impact myself, as though I, too, was receiving the strikes.

_How the hell can these chains come undone?! _I thought to myself, panicked. Startled, I looked up as Luke wrenched his arm free and jabbed Rixon sharply in the throat. Rixon choked, momentarily distracted. Luke used that opportunity to flip the other fallen angel over and even out the scores.

_Human blood,_ Luke's voice whispered in my mind. _The rawness of humanity is corrosive to the pure spirit in the chains._

Well, isn't that nice. _You couldn't have told me this earlier?!_

_I've been a little busy._

Ignoring this, I reached for Patch, fastening my hands around his wrists. "I know how to cut the chains."

His dark eyes, barely concealing the desire to step into the fight, met mine. Their depths were all consuming. "Do it."

The blood on my wrists were dry, but the cuts were still new. Steadying myself with an inhalation of musty air, I scraped the outside of my wrist down the rough, jagged plastered wall. A gasp hissed through my teeth as the cuts reopened, the blood blossoming like a gruesome flower. Patch's mouth opened in protest. "Elle! What the hell are you doing?"

"Blood," I whimpered, smearing my blood across Patch's wrists, trying not to cry out at the sting. "Human blood breaks the bond."

From the back corner of the room there was a strangled yell and another shudder of the room. Dust sifted down from the ceiling like sand in an hourglass. Rough, clawed hands grabbed at my shoulders, wrenching me away from Patch.

"_No!_" I cried in a strangled voice. Rixon's face was a mask of rage as he threw me to the floor.

"You stupid girl," he snarled, aiming a kick at my side. The impact took the breath from my lungs, breaking off my cry. Luke was struggling to pull himself upright from the other side of the room, his arm hanging awkwardly from his shoulder, his legs shaking so violently it was a wonder he could move at all. Rixon's face was red, one of his eyes already closing up with a bruise. He reached forward, taking a handful of my hair and yanking me upwards. This time I did scream; my scalp, still tender with the hurriedly sewn stiches, felt like it was being ripped apart. "You've done nothing but piss me off," he hissed, his face inches from mine. The stench of his breath made me want to retch. "The archangels will believe me anyway, I don't need you any longer. Say goodbye to this life, Elle," he suddenly grinned, showing off a mouthful of yellowed teeth, "what was it you said? 'What's so great about being human anyway? You're born, you age, and you die'?"

I swallowed a scream as Rixon unearthed a filthy knife from his pocket. He looked at it considerably, then smiled as he traced, with a feather light pressure, the tip of the knife around the shape of my lips. He leant in even closer, so that the hollow orbs that were his eyes were all I could see. "Well, Elle," he whispered. "Here is your humanity."

And with one sharp thrust he drove the blade up through my ribs and pierced my heart.

* * *

I always thought death to be light, blinding whiteness that stunned people into silence at its beauty. Or maybe that was just heaven. Maybe I was in hell? I knew one thing was for sure, I wasn't alive. I remembered the echoed turmoil of my last moments, yet I couldn't feel any fear or pain for what I left in the real world. _But this can't be hell_, I thought, as I looked around myself. Hell was supposed to be fiery and full of sounds of screams and torment, wasn't it? All there was here was fog, a grey mist that swirled around me and made me completely unaware of what was beyond the haze.

After an immeasurable amount of time; it could've been seconds, minutes, hours, something _did_ become distinguishable through the grey fog. A small figure was making its way toward me. I squinted, trying to will the fog to lift. I deduced the figure was animal. A small dog?

With only a meter between us I recognised the feathered tail and pointed ears of the grey cat that I encountered moments before I ventured into the Amusement Park. It sat before me, tail swishing side to side, yellow eyes trained upon me, once again expectant.

I regarded the cat with confusion. Why was this cat in my afterlife? "Er, hey there kitty," I said, and noted with interest the way my voice bounced off invisible walls. "What are _you_ doing here_?_ "

She cocked her head as if listening to me. It was as if she was trying to communicate to me through her stare.

"Uh..." I looked around for a clue to what was going on. "Am I...I thought I was dead?"

_Not quite._

The voice was as unexpected as it was foreign. I whirled around, trying to locate the speaker. It was a moment before I realised the words were spoken directly into my mind. "What the...?"

_Down here._

I looked down at the cat, whose eyes were glowing. I opened my mouth to speak, lost my words, then stumbled to say something, anything. "Is a cat talking to me?" I blurted out.

_I believe there are more important questions at hand. Such as your earlier question._

Trying to step over the bizarreness of the fact that a cat was talking into my mind, I racked my brains for the question she was referring to.

"Oh!" I said with a sudden burst of clarity. "Am I dead?"

The cat closed her eyes in satisfaction. _That's a good question. Oh, and please, stop referring to me as a 'she'. You can clearly tell by my voice I'm a male._

Oops. Looks like I made that awkward mistake.

"Oh, sorry about that."

_Never mind that now. The answer to your question is this: you're not dead, but you did die._

I stared at the cat for a full ten seconds. Finally I located my voice. "I don't understand. Where am I?"

_Right now you're between the thin margin of life and death._

"Why am I not dead?" I questioned.

Instead of answering my question, the cat took a great, shuddering breath, and then his body began to convulse, shaking and stretching and bending in distorting, unnatural ways. I cried out, reaching my hands forward in some attempt to help, but with no clue as to what was happening.

The grey fur sunk into white skin, paper thin and stretched across protruding cheekbones. Limbs were elongated and draped in a flowing cloak that blended into the thick mist surrounding us. His eyes however, remained unchanged; they glowed a fierce yellow as they regarded me. He stood tall and thin, power radiated from his being, it struck me silent.

"I think this may be more comfortable," he sighed, rolling his neck. I knew then I definitely wasn't dead, because I could feel the urge to throw up rise up within me. I tried to speak, but only a thin rasping noise creaked from my throat. The man adjusted his cloak and took a moment to regard me. "You're not dead, because it was Rixon who tried to kill you."

I found my voice, though it wasn't very steady. "What difference does it make who killed me? I was stabbed, I _saw _the knife-" I began to gasp, my hands clutching at my chest, looking down at the unblemished shirt I wore.

"Rixon thought he was a part of a plan to capture the wanted fallen angel, Patch. But in reality the game was far greater than that. You see, before Rixon fell he took something very important from the arch angels, something invaluable, something that belongs in the hands of those high above, not to a past guardian angel intent on becoming human; the Book of Enoch."

"If you knew Rixon had it, why didn't you just take it back?"

He bristled at that, straightening up and standing tall. "While I had strong suspicions he did take the Book, I have no certain evidence. The arch angels are unwilling to take action until confident, otherwise risk the notion of losing face. He seems to be very careful, leaves no opportunity to be caught with the book. So I had another plan: have him commit a crime that would equal the severity of diminishing him from this world. And tonight, finally, it has all come together. He killed an innocent child, and now he will pay for it. While he rots in Hell I can retrieve the Book and peace can be restored once more."

As my mind processed the words, I felt a hot wisp of anger feather down my spine. "What are you saying? That my life was ended because it was part of your plan? That it was a convenience for you?" My face felt warm and my palms tingled. I wanted to scream in frustration but I couldn't conjure the sound from my dry throat. "Don't I get any say in this?"

His yellow eyes softened. He raised a pale, thin hand and rested it on my shoulder, the weight surprisingly reassuring. I felt my eyes prick in the face of his pity; I didn't want to hear words of sympathy. "Elle," his voice was low and hoarse, from an eternity of use, perhaps. "You do indeed have a say in the matter. In all physical aspects you would be deemed dead, irretrievable from beyond the veil of death, however you will find that when it comes to the authority of those who hold the universe, death can become quite a trifling matter. It is utterly in your hands, whether you choose to pass on into the next life, or return back into your body; into the world where you knew of pain and loss and chaos."

His response took me entirely by surprise. In a short period of time where it seemed my life was unravelling before me, with me having no say in any issues, to now where I have complete control of a matter of life and death. Literally.

"I choose the chaos," I said quickly. "I'll take the pain, just as long as I get to see my parents, live my life. Be with Patch."

The angel straightened up at Patch's name. "That reminds me, child: you must understand how imperative it is to hold your tongue against everything unusual that has occurred in your life recently. You are not to utter a breath of any of this to anyone; I cannot emphasize the severity of my words."

I nodded. "Believe me, I won't. I've seen what can come from doing so." The hideous form of the _Venator_ loomed forth in my mind's eye, causing sweat to break out across the skin of my temples. "And anyway, no one would believe me."

He nodded in agreement. "In any case, a close eye will be held on you, Elle. Perhaps for the rest of your life to assure no other human finds out. Is this clear?"

"Crystal."

The deep lines at the corner of his mouth relaxed, as did his rigid posture. He raised his weathered hands so they cupped my cheeks. "I am deeply sorry for your suffering, I truly am." His kindness caused an aching in my throat. "But you need not suffer at his hands any longer, it's over."

His golden eyes filled me until they were all I could see. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut short as he gave me a short, sharp push away from him. I lost my footing, feeling affronted, shooting out a hand to grasp anything that could break my fall. I came up empty.


	25. Chapter 25

_Hello! If anyone is out there as you can see I finally, FINALLY finished this long, often quiet but never forgotten story. Believe me, it was always there in the back of my mind nagging and nagging at me to finish. This is my final chapter, forgive me for any typos as I couldn't bear to wait a moment longer before putting it up. This was a really long chapter so I've decided to split it into two (chapter 24 & 25). For those who were reading this story from the start, thank you so very much for your support. Just knowing there were people out there waiting for me to upload so they could interact with Elle, Patch and Luke was amazing! And to those who have just started reading, we'll lucky you, you don't have to wait a year for me to upload again! I would love, love, LOVE for you to review and just tell me what you think, I don't want to disappoint anyone with how this ended!_

_Anyway, that's enough from me. If you're reading this, thank you for reading this and not just skimming over the list of stories to the next one. Heheh_

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**Chapter Twenty-Five**

I continued to fall, watching as his figure grew farther and farther away. I couldn't scream; the sound was torn from my lips with the whistling wind as it twisted me like a rag-doll falling through the sky. My skin began to burn, a dull ache spreading out from my ribs to my fingers and toes. All of a sudden my back hit the ground hard, knocking all the air from my body. My eyes shot open as I drew a long, gasping breath, my chest aching dully with the effort. I had to blink several times for the interior of the haunted house to swim into focus, revealing the dank, damp air, the dusty floor and ruined ceiling. Looking down at myself I saw the blood, the cuts and bruises that were already turning a mottled purple. Something moved in my peripheral.

Snapping my neck to the left, I flinched away from the source of movement. A pair of obsidian eyes met mine, the darkness hollow, the whites reddened. A moment passed before I watched them widen in astonishment. A low "Elle?" rasping from his raw throat was all I needed to stagger to my knees and crawl to him, collapsing against his hard chest when I felt the weight of his arms wrap around my torso.

"Patch," I sobbed, tears falling thick and fast as I clung to him, fingers knotted in his midnight hair. His arms crushed my ribs, his lips were shaking against my neck.

"I thought you were gone forever," his voice was hushed, catching on the last word.

"I thought I'd never see you face again," my voice was weak.

"Elle, oh god," he held me tighter to him so that I could feel his body trembling ever so slightly. His hands shifted so that he held me away from him, our limbs still entwined as his eyes appraised me. "I thought...I thought you were..." a line formed between his brows, a visible mark of his distress.

My fingertips itched to smooth the indentation that creased his glorious face, however a thought suddenly echoed throughout my mind, raising inner alarm bells. "Rixon, Luke, where are they?"

His large hands tenderly swept my hair from my face and cupped my cheeks, his dark eyes burning mine. "Rixon will never hurt you again. He'll never get near enough to touch you, to touch anyone."

"This was all a huge set up," I blurted out, knowing that the archangels wouldn't punish me with the wrath of God for telling Patch. "They were after him all along, even Luke was manipulated and twisted to play their game." He gathered me up against his chest, tucking my head under his chin as he shuffled his feet to stand. I felt the ground disappear beneath me, but the strength of his arms under my knees and around my back allowed me to feel safe, sheltered.

Patch carried me towards the exit, towards daylight and clean air and away from the desecrate Haunted House that I hoped I'd never have to see ever again. I was freezing, sore and exhausted, my stomach, although empty, was churning and my face felt stiff with grime. I squinted as we stepped out into the light, the briny air off the coast tickling my face.

Sitting just outside the entrance with his elbows braced on his knees, sapphire eyes gazing faraway into the distance, an air of sadness surrounding him like a cloud of perfume, was Luke. I squirmed until Patch set my feet gently on the ground, his hands resting underneath my elbows in case my legs gave way. My knees shook, causing my mind to conjure up an image of a baby giraffe taking its first steps. I called his name softly, watching as he took a long moment to turn his head.

"Hey there, little warrior." The corner of his mouth pulled up into a half smile. He heaved himself up and came to a stop directly in front of me, tucking his fingers under my chin and raising my head. "How are you feeling?"

His eyes searched my face, no trace of malevolence that originally had lurked in the shadows. I swallowed, leaning into Patch's chest for support. "A little sore, and weird. Very weird."

"Yes, well," Patch's chest vibrated with his voice, "dying would do that to a person."

Luke glanced up at Patch and took a breath. Stepping back, he stood eye to eye with him, his face looking more drawn and worn that I'd ever seen. "Patch, I... I don't even know what to say. I don't understand how this all happened."

Winding an arm around my waist, Patch raised his other palm to Luke to stop him. "No, it's ok. I know now that this whole time it wasn't you, but the arch angels. You couldn't control it, no one could."

Luke's face was twisting, his hands clenching in frustration. "I should have _fought it._ No matter what feuds we've had in the past, I would never try to torture you the way I did. Or you, Elle," his hand raked through his hair. "I can't believe how I hurt you, physically and mentally , and terrified you. You didn't deserve any of that, I'm so sorry— "

"Luke, stop." I commanded, swaying slightly on my feet in exhaustion. "It wasn't you. I don't blame you. Please, please stop blaming yourself," I just wanted to fold myself under and blanket for the rest of my life and cry, selfishly I couldn't take Luke's anguish, I just wanted to forget.

"Lucian," Patch adjusted his arms so they held most of my weight. "Now is probably not the best time to say this, as Killer here is about to drop, but I need to tell you. Even if that wasn't the arch angels manipulating you, I would understand why you'd hate me so severely. I betrayed you, I tore your heart to pieces and fed it to that beast. If I could, I would go back and stop myself. You don't understand the regret I've felt ever since I had to do what I did. I don't expect that to somehow excuse what I did, I just want you to know that I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it save her."

Luke swallowed, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. Finally, voice catching, he murmured, "I guess either way it wouldn't have mattered, I was forbidden to love her anyway."

"That makes no difference to me," Patch shook his head, "I still betrayed you, you were like a brother."

"No, Patch. In a way, you saved me. I would have fallen if I acted on my lust." He scuffed his shoe on the gravel, kicking up dust. My eyes were drooping. I shook my head to rouse myself, widening my eyes in an attempt to relieve them of the heavy sensation.

"I need to go back," Luke announced abruptly, eyes squeezed shut. "If I stay down here any longer they might not let me back in." He opened his eyes, the bright azure of his irises glimmering as they settled on me. "Elle, you're a brave girl. I truly am sorry for how we met, but glad in a way we did."

Despite how he terrified me, turned my life upside down, caused me to question my sanity, I found myself falling into his arms. _It wasn't him, _I thought to myself fiercely, tightening my arms around his torso. His arms wound around me, stroking my back, murmuring soothing words into my hair. _The real Luke isn't capable of that._

_Thank you,_ I felt him whisper into my mind.

Stepping back and wiping my eyes, I turned around to give the two a moment to say goodbye. "It was good to see you again, it was nice to fight on the same side one more time," Patch said.

Luke laughed slightly, "Yeah, it was. I have to admit, anger can't live long when there is nothing to fuel it. I've missed this. You're not like you were when you first fell, you know?"

I turned to peek at the two boys. Patch smiled his pirate smile. "I wouldn't be too sure."

Luke smiled in response. "Seriously, I reckon if you kept on like this you might get offered a guardian position."

"While that does sound tempting, Lucian, I wouldn't accept it even if the arch angels were gracious enough to offer." He extended his long arm to wrap around my waist, pulling to his side. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere other than right here."

I felt the first touch of warmth rush to my cheeks in delight. "Really?"

He turned his head to look down at me, his expression tender. "Really."

Luke was grinning by now, yet the curve of his lips didn't fully reach his eyes. "You take care of him, Elle. He's a good guy."

"I will, Luke."

"Good girl." Luke began to walk away, before turning back on his heel. "Although, you might reconsider once you discover one of his deepest, darkest secrets. It truly is frightening."

I felt Patch stiffen beside me. My neck prickled with apprehension. "What do you mean?"

"Lucian, don't." Patch warned.

Luke held up his hands, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Ok, ok! Whatever you say, _Jev._"

Patch's growl was lost under Luke's buoyant laughter. Waving one last time, he began to jog toward the park's gates, building his speed until he was flat out sprinting. Patch and I watched solemnly as Luke passed the wrought iron gate, his figure suddenly flickering. Between one blink and the next, he was gone.

Silence. Patch and I looked at each other, our gazes unwavering. My eyes greedily drank him in, his mussed dark hair caused my fingers to itch with longing. His eyes had no end, they were dark pools that wrapped around me, devoured me. His jaw was sharp, slight stubble dotted his chin. My eyes settled on his smooth lips, his devilish mouth. My tongue flicked out to lick my lips involuntarily. Patch suddenly jerked forward, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhalation. His arms snapped shut around me, pressing me into his hard body and lifting my feet off the ground. His mouth met mine, his lips warm and soft, pressing against mine, biting at my bottom lip gently. I wound my arms around his neck, braiding my fingers into his hair, pulling at the silken strands. My yearning for him was a thirst I couldn't satiate, the more we kissed the more I wanted him. I stroked the rough surface of his jaw, clutching him tighter as I felt his fingers brush against the bare skin beneath the hem of my shirt.

Finally we broke apart, eyes wide as we panted for breath. Our foreheads were pressed together, fingers linked. I was trembling, whether with fatigue or excitement I couldn't be sure. Patch detangled his fingers from mine and cupped my face, tilting my head so that his eyes could reach mine. "Come on, Killer," he said quietly, "time to go home."

I nodded in relief. He scooped me into his arms, allowing me to wriggle around until I fit into his body like a missing puzzle piece. "Elle," he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead.

"Mmm?" I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck.

"You mean everything to me, you know that right?"

I swallowed a smile, tilting my head back to blink up at me. "You mean more to me," I said simply.

His mouth hitched up into a smile. "Not possible, Killer."

"I think it is, _Jev." _

"At a time like this you still manage to be cheeky," Patch shook his head in disbelief. "You know, now that you know this, I'm going to have to kill you."

I glared at him, a grin teasing at my mouth. "You know, that would be funny— in other circumstances."

Patch chuckled, planting a swift kiss on my lips. "Alright, fine. How about this: I won't revert to such extremities, if you forget you learnt the finer details of my given name."

I pretended to think for a moment, struggling to rise above the waves of sleep. "Deal."

His fingers caressed my arm, tracing circles on my bare skin. "Good. Now close your eyes, and sleep. You'll be safe here in my arms, safe as long as you'll have them around you."

I smirked, "so forever then?"

Patch stopped walking and gazed down at me, his eyes liquid black. A smile traced his lips as he leant forward to sweep a kiss to the corner of my mouth, his hands holding me tighter, his heat sinking into my skin and sending warmth shooting through my veins.

"Forever."


End file.
